Dangerous Games
by Aqua77
Summary: NOMINATED in the Hawthorn&Vine Reverse Challenge! Draco is playing dangerous games in dangerous times to ensure the peace after the 2nd wizarding war. Hermione is recruited to help with the investigation, which she is preparing to give her life for...
1. Chapter 1

_Hi everyone, this is my first fanfiction and at that, not even one in my own language, so please be kind. This story tells the tale both from Hermione's as Draco's perspective. Sadly this site doesn't offer different methods of separating the text (or at least I haven't found that yet), so the horizontal ruler both indicates a shift from Hermione to Draco, or vice versa, and the end of a paragraph. _

_**This story was written for the Hawthorne&Vine Reverse Challenge, and it has now been nominated in the categorie Best Action/Adventure. YAY! I you would like to vote for me, your vote is really appreciated! You don't need to be a member, but I'd recommend it...Hawthorn&Vine is awesome!**  
_

_The story is finished, so I won't change anything about it, just so you know. If you don't like it, tell me nicely and consider reading something else, I don't want any flaming! If you do like it, I would love to hear your thoughts. _

_I will be updating a few chapters every day, in total there are 13._

_A big thank you to my lovely beta Swirlsofblack!  
_

_Enjoy!_

_Barbara_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

'That is a dangerous game you're planning to play, Malfoy.'

'I know.' he replied. 'Don't you think I know that?' He sneered at the man at the other side of the desk.

'There must be-'

'No, there isn't', he interrupted. 'There bloody well isn't, and you know it as well as I do.' He saw the same defeat in the other man's eyes, that he felt cursing through his body.

'You know there is no other option. You know I can't let this happen,' he paused. 'Not again.'

The man at the other side of the desk nodded and it was settled. He would play his part. And play it well. Because if he didn't, it would not be just his future that would be at risk.

* * *

She was counting out loud to make sure she wouldn't miss any of the crucial turns of the _Felix Felicis_ potion she was brewing in the pewter cauldron at her workbench. Sixteen more and it would be finished, thank goodness, because her arm was getting so tired. She had taken off her standard black robes, trying to keep cool. Maybe she should forego wearing anything at all. Well except her underwear under her robes. It wasn't as if anyone would notice. Her labs were secluded and she never did get many visitors anyhow. And besides, how would they ever know she wasn't donning her customary jeans and t-shirt?

The Ministry dungeons did not offer much in way of air circulation. She could cast a cooling charm, but she didn't want to risk the temperature fluctuations. She was down to ten more turns, six months of work coming to an end. Hermione would be glad when it would finally be done. It had taken her a lot of time, not only work time, and Gil had complained excessively the few last weeks.

He was her boyfriend, he had reminded her, and he needed more attention than a tin of tuna and a scratch behind his ear, like her familiar, to keep him happy. At the time Hermione thought he was overreacting slightly. She had only cancelled two events; a charity ball, which she didn't want to go to anyway, and a garden party at the Brakkenwells. She knew he was mad that she had cancelled _that _party particularly, Adeline Brakkenwell being his favourite aunt, but she was just one person.

Ginny had filled her in afterwards and she was glad she hadn't attended either. Both were swamped with press and she had seen pictures of the events in both _the_ _Prophet_ and _Quibbler_. Though she had to admit she missed her boyfriend of two years, she did not miss the paparazzi. But a cosy evening together, that would be nice, they should plan one, now that she was almost done with her most challenging potion-project yet. She continued to count. Four, three...

The warm hand she suddenly felt on her shoulder startled her so much, she almost lost count. She just managed to keep counting backwards, two, one. Tipping the ladle out of the potion, that now shifted to a magnificent molten gold, she turned around to see what idiot dared to disturb her during her work.

'Harry James Potter! You big oaf, you almost made me ruin the entire potion! You can't just walk in here and act like you're, like...you're Head Auror or something!' She was screeching at the end of her tirade, her face turning red and arms flapping around.

Harry just cocked his head to the other side, 'Well, in fact, I am.'

'You're what?' she asked, her tantrum almost forgotten. She had already started cleaning up around her workbench.

'Head Auror.' He said it in such a casual tone, that it took her a few seconds before the information sank in. But when it did, she froze in mid-action and turned around.

'Harry,' her voice not much more then a whisper, 'you did it? You really did it?' She walked into his opened arms.

'I have. Finally!' They just stood there for a while, before he started talking again. 'I got the news an hour ago. I'm glad you didn't scream; Ginny went bonkers when she heard.' They chuckled. Hermione could quite imagine Ginny's reaction to the news.

'I'm sorry for yelling at you, Harry,' Hermione said to him, while cleaning up around her again. 'But that prank you pulled nearly cost me six months constant brewing. Gil has been on my case for days, about me working all hours and cancelling all sorts of engagements.' Harry at least had the decency to look contrite.

'But I love you, so I'll forgive you.' She gave him a small peck on the cheek. 'When's the party?'

* * *

The owl she was told to expect by Harry came when she was preparing dinner for her and Gil. Harry had warned her that there would be an official party to celebrate his promotion. She used the knife she was cutting carrots with to open the invite. Gil wrapped his arms around her waist and scolded her for staining the paper, because they would have to bring it to the party. There was no question about it – she would have to go. She owed it to Harry. Gil was smiling at her, while he nicked a carrot stick and stuck it in his mouth.

'Hmm. This smells nice, darling. What is it called?' he asked her.

'Chicken Kiev.'

'With a salad.'

'Yep.'

At that he left her to finish up.

When they sat down at the table, Gil suddenly said; 'You should go into catering.'

She looked at him incredulously. _Catering_. How did he come up with that? For the last months he had seized every opportunity to point out different job options to her. But this was a completely new approach.

'Yes,' he continued, 'your cooking is just excellent. And think what you could do if you used magic instead of doing it Muggle style. And you wouldn't have any trouble getting customers, I bet, with your hero status and all.' He stuffed another fork full of chicken in his mouth.

Hermione stared at him, processing all the information that came out of her boyfriend's mouth. 'I like cooking like a Muggle, Gil. And I like cooking for family and friends. But it wouldn't be something I'd want to do as a job.'

He looked at her pensively. 'But think about the fun you'll have, and all the parties you could attend and the people you'd meet, darling.' He looked so hopeful at her that it hurt her heart.

'Gil. You know I love my work as a Potions Mistress. I like working in the dungeons. And don't you think I'd have to work at those parties, if I were the caterer? I would be gone a lot and at all hours too.'

'I'll bet you won't work ridiculous hours like you do now. And you could get staff to do those things, you know, that need to be done at the actual party. You'll just have to be present and think of all the fun we could have, the people we would meet-'

'I'll get desert.' she cut him off. Gods, she hated these discussions about her work. Quickly, she stood up and took the plates back to the kitchen.

* * *

The fairy lights hovering in the back garden at Godric's Hollow made it look like a film set. It was nice outside, the wind blowing softly and it was a lot less crowded than it was inside. She'd introduced Gil to Oliver Wood and for the last half hour Gil had been speaking to him and some of his teammates. She sipped at her Apple Martini and continued her stroll.

Harry had looked happy tonight. He hated standing in the limelight, just like her, but not this time. Tonight was special, the celebration of something he had worked hard for since the end of the war. It was also what he wanted to do, not something he was thrust into.

She reached a tree planted near the end of the garden and looked back at the house to see other people, couples mainly, getting some air. She loved the home Harry and Ginny had moved into after their wedding two years ago. When they met her and Gil at the door this night, she could see he was happy now. He had made peace with the world and was content, settled and madly in love. Just like her and Gil, she mused.

That just left Ron, the loose canon. She hadn't seen him yet. He'd probably show up late, again, with the new flavour of the month. Which was a shame, because she actually liked his last date, Shanna, who had more than half a brain cell.

* * *

'Hey darling, where were you all this time?' Gil put his arm around her waist once again.

'Just in the garden to-'

'Ah great, well have you met Ingrid and Ulla? They're from Germany. You know Oliver and Marcus of course.'

Hermione nodded to everyone and gave them a smile.

'Ingrid and Ulla are Quidditch players as well, did you know? They just transferred to the Harpies. Big stars in their home country and very famous,' he told her. He turned back to his audience.

'Well ladies, please let me introduce you to _the_ Hermione Granger, brains of the Golden Trio.' He smiled wildly, while Hermione wanted to find the nearest rock and crawl under it. Or hit him over the head with it. He always did that! He'd make her out to be some kind of superstar and she thoroughly hated it.

'And of course she's the most beautiful one of the three.' He laughed loudly to his own joke. A snorting sound made the whole group turn around.

'Well, Marcus. I'd say we did certainly not share that sentiment when we were in Hogwarts.' The man was looking straight at Marcus Flint before he turned to Ingrid and Ulla and gave them a blinding smile.

'But little hairy, buck tooth know-it-alls apparently clean up quite well when they grow up.' And his eyes came to rest on her when he finished his declaration.

First she just stared at him. It had been a long time since she saw Draco Malfoy last. Their worlds normally didn't collide that often and she just skipped everything in _the Prophet_ and _Quibbler_ that had to do with _wizarding society_. But somehow it was rather reassuring to experience that the world still was the same, at least concerning one Mr. Draco Malfoy. He was still a pompous git!

'Well, Malfoy, I don't know what to make of that. I would almost wonder if this was a rather awkward compliment or a disguised insult?' she said with a glare.

'Well actually, I gave you two compliments, Granger. One for your lovely mind and another for your lovely body. And there I see the man of the hour. Ladies. Flint. Wood. Stone.' He nodded and walked away towards Harry, leaving her standing there baffled and blushing not only at his comments, but mostly at the way his eyes had followed her body from head to toe. Gil seemed to find it all very entertaining and joked on about how witty Draco Malfoy was. And intelligent, well, that was to be expected running Malfoy Enterprises and so on. Yes, he had fought for the 'Light' as well, al be it as a late edition. But, better late than never, he added cheerfully.

She let him talk and nodded when necessary, her eyes scanning the room to see where Mr. Witty had retreated to. _Gods, she hated parties._

_

* * *

_'Are you enjoying yourself, 'Mione?'

'You know I don't like big parties, Harry,' she sighed.

'I know.' Momentarily, he was concentrating on dancing again. 'But it's nice to see some faces from way back when. I never thought that in a world as small as the wizarding one, it would be at all possible to go lengths of time not seeing people.'

'I can honestly say that concerning _some_ people, even five years is not long enough.' she said with a snort.

'Ah, I take it you had a run in with Malfoy.'

'Yes. And explain to me again _why_ he is here?'

Harry looked like he was working hard on finding a suitable answer.

'Never mind. I know. He's a _somebody._ And as Lavender so eloquently put it, "This is _the_ party where everybody who is somebody has to be." Seems you have really landed in _society_.' She laughed. full of mirth at Harry's worried face.

'Oh gods. Do you think they expect more of this?' his hand making an encompassing gesture.

She shrugged. 'Probably.'

He groaned as he took her for another turn on the dance floor.

They talked some more while dancing around the small floor. Dancing with Harry felt nice and she pushed away the annoying feeling of being on show for everyone. The gratitude was nice, truly, but she just wanted to get on with her life now. Just like Harry. Unfortunately, Ron didn't share this opinion. After starting training as an Auror, he soon switched to playing professional Quidditch.

He loved the fans, the attention and the women. _Especially_ the attention he got from all his women fans. The break up had been messy. At their first Ministry ball, were she was still employed, he dumped her, in the middle of the dance floor. She had complained about the unrelenting attention he got from all sorts of women while he was dancing with her. In reality it hadn't been the attention the women gave Ron, but the attention Ron gave to all those women and the comments about how they looked and how sexy they were. She knew why he made those comments. Discussions about her more modest attire came more often; the longer he played for the Cannons, but she just did not feel comfortable showing all her _charms_ in public. Not like his fans who seemed to buy their clothes in the children's department. After all his insulting comments about her looks and her lack of sex appeal during their break-up row, she was never happier that she worked in the lowest dungeons and for the next two weeks she changed her hours, so she wouldn't have to see anyone when coming or going. She stopped reading the newspaper for a long time as well. It was the voice of Ron who cut her reverie short, when he asked Harry if he could cut in.

'Hi, 'Mione. You look...lovely.'

She eyed him suspiciously. Did he mean it or was he just being polite? She quite liked the dress she was wearing. It was a sleeveless, wrap top and came to just her knees. She loved the flower pattern on it.

'Thank you, Ron. Did you just get here? Where's your date?'

He smiled at her. 'Yes _we_ just arrived. Shanna is over there talking to Lavender.'

'Oh, you're here with Shanna.' She _was_ surprised. Ron hadn't switched his routine with women for the last three years. 'I'm glad, Ron, I really like her, she's nice and...well.'

'Not as flaky as some of the other girls I have dated?' he prompted.

She giggled. She was glad things were almost back to normal between them. She had missed her goofy best friend. Even though he could be a humongous idiot. 'Exactly Ron, you should keep on to this one.'

'Oh, I intend to, believe me!'

It was nice to notice that finally Ron seemed to make his last steps into adulthood. He talked about the Cannons, but not in the over exuberant way he used to. Instead, he spoke of team orders and politics, about his training schedule and even about other subjects, like his intentions for having a house built. He even asked about her work and Gil. She decided that this was a night full off surprises and briefly wondered if she had regrets about their failed relationship.

Just a minute later, Ron had used her as a bumper car to get the attention of Marcus Flint, who played for a competing team, she concluded she wasn't. She loved Ron, but as a friend. A sometimes very annoying friend, who she was glad about not having to see twenty-four hours a day.

* * *

Draco took another sip of the tumbler of Firewhiskey, his second that night, and scanned the room he was standing in. It was crowded. Most of the people he knew, either from his years at Hogwarts, his days as an Order member or as associates of Malfoy Enterprises. Most of them bored him to no end.

On the other side of the room was an odd matched party of people talking. Weasley, Flint, some blond Quidditch player and Granger, who was now ambushed from behind by Mrs. Potter. She seemed relieved and was whisked away by her friend. No doubt the discussions she just left gravitated solely around Quidditch and apparently her lack of enthusiasm for the sport had not changed with the years. As he had stated earlier, other things certainly had changed for Granger. He would even go as far as to say she looked pretty - not beautiful mind - but pretty enough. She had grown and was now about 5'10, he guessed, and she hadn't just grown in height. The black and white flower pattern cocktail dress showed of her curves, though quite modestly. Her hair, which he had thought would never amount to anything, was falling in soft waves to her mid back. But he would have to say that it was her smile, which lit up her entire face; a smile like she was currently giving her friend, that completed the package.

He continued his walk trough the room, but kept checking in on the two women talking in the dimly lit corner. They giggled a lot and he wondered what 'girl stuff' they were talking about. Fashion? Gossip? Babies? Gods, the Potters wouldn't already, would they?

Or maybe it was Granger. Nah, he figured her for more of a traditionalist; first marriage, then babies. Ah! That might be it then. Had Stone proposed to her? He walked closer to them to inspect her fingers. No ring. Hmm. Not that apparently. Maybe for the best, because for the life of him he couldn't figure out what a smart girl like Granger was doing with a ponce like Stone.

During his Hogwarts years he never had anything to do with the Ravenclaw that was a few years older than he was. But as director of ME, he met with him often enough to know that Stone was an idiot. An incompetent one at that and since he started dating Granger, after the Ministry Ball fiasco she had had with Weasley, he would drop her name now and again to assert some kind of worthiness about his person.

He arrived at the other end of the room again, congratulating himself that his ice cold exterior had worked once again and people had left him alone with his thoughts. He turned to watch Granger and Ginny again, who were now joined by Potter and Stone. The Potters left for the dance floor.

Stone draped his arm around Granger and nodded to the floor as well. Seeing them interact was hilarious, really. It was evident that he wanted to join the Potters in dancing, but Granger was not having it. He wished he could read lips, because this was about to get good, he could tell. Stone was towering over her, gesturing wildly with his hand, a frown present on his face. Granger seemed unperturbed, crossing her arms and scowling at her boyfriend.

He, on the other hand, got more aggravated and reached out to grab her upper arm. Draco was sure Granger could hold her own; he had seen her on the battlefield against more than one full grown Death Eater and coming out on top. But this felt wrong, somehow. Maybe he should go over and save her, ask her to dance with him. He smiled; it would get her away from Stone and piss the man off that she would dance, but just not with him. Win-win on that one. With just a few paces to go, he saw Granger turn ashen at something Stone said to her. The culprit stormed away after that, leaving her standing there like a statue. Not moving, hardly breathing, it seemed.

'Granger, are you...?'

Her head swirled around violently. Her brown curls flopping around. But it was her eyes that caught him. He had never in his life seen more emotion displayed than in those two caramel coloured ones. Hurt, despair, shame and a look of being lost, which struck him the most.

'Let me get Ginny for you,' he said quietly and looked around to find the petite red-head.

'That won't be necessary, Malfoy, thank you.'

Her voice sounded blank. He turned and looked her in the eyes once more, but they matched her voice. She smiled a hollow smile at him, turned, and walked away in a steady pace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Ginny was frantically trying to tidy up the room, telling her it was alright that she came by. Hermione couldn't believe she was back here so soon. Although they were still the best of friends, Ginny, Harry and herself, their busy lives minimized visits to Godric's Hollow to just once a month. Those Sundays were spent sitting in the garden or kitchen, depending on the season, with a good cuppa. The rest of the time they would Floo, send owls, or meet in Diagon Ally. But today was Saturday and here she was, sitting on the Potter's settee, feeling miserable.

It should have made her laugh, really, to see that Ginny was not as tidy as she was always led to believe. Apparently she cleaned up when she expected guests. And she certainly did not expect any today, judging by the mess in the living room. But, in all honesty, it felt like she had no funny bone left in her body anymore, so she just sat there.

She took another sip of her tea and sighed and thought back at the events of the last week or so. Ginny called it her sixth sense, knowing when something was wrong; she had inherited it from her mother, she told her, when she appeared in her flat a week ago. At the time Hermione had called it a damn nuisance.

She had just wanted to find a nice rock, crawl under it and die. Now she grudgingly had to admit, she was glad Ginny had floo'ed when she did. Sobbing on her living room floor, curled up as tight as she could, hoping the world would make sense again when she opened her eyes.

Not very conductive. Or realistic. She knew that, of course she knew that, she wasn't stupid! Well, at least that was the going consensus. At this point in time she really did not know if she could agree with that statement of her being _"the brightest witch of her age"_ anymore.

Hermione looked outside; the leaves were a lovely green and the sun was shining shyly through some fluffy clouds. Spring was in the air and she contemplated _silencio'ing_ all the birds in the vicinity. The bloody happy twittering was getting on her nerves. There was no bloody reason in the world to be happy - none whatsoever - so if they would all please just shut it!

As she closed her eyes, she remembered everything again. Without a warning, Ginny had just stepped through the Floo. How the redhead managed to break through the extensive wards, she still had to ask. Probably Harry's doing.

She hadn't been very coherent. Sobbing, sniffing and babbling, she'd told Ginny about the fight with Gil. Ginny was relieved, she'd told her, that it wasn't something more serious. She had glared at her friend and if looks could've killed, Ginny would've been very, very dead. While practically pulling her to bed, Ginny had apologized profusely. Yeah, well, she just wasn't in the mood to be magnanimous.

She'd slept for a day and a half. Waking up, sometimes she'd forgotten what had happened, but unfortunately that never lasted long. Harry had been there a couple of times, but mostly it was Ginny who came around. Both tried to feed her broth and orange juice. Thank god they didn't ask anything, or said anything other than that she looked better rested. Harry had called her in sick at the Ministry. She'd never been sick before- they would want to know precisely what had happened. What in the world would she tell them? Not the truth, that was for sure. This thought still kept creeping into her mind at all times. It was the weekend now, thankfully.

But on Monday she'd have a lot of explaining to do, because really, what illness could she have had? Common flu or food poisoning was easily curable in the wizarding world. And more serious conditions would have resulted in a visit to St. Mungo's, where she obviously hadn't been.

Ginny was finished with the emergency clean-up and was now listening to Hermione moaning about _What to tell her boss? _

'You could of course just tell them the truth,' Ginny suggested. 'It's not like your break-up will stay secret for ever. And, let's face it,

'Mione, even though you like to pretend otherwise, you're just as human as the rest of us, love.'

_Ginny was right, of course,_ Hermione realised. _But that didn't mean she liked it._

* * *

_'Monsieur_ Malfoy. May I take your cloak?'

Draco looked down his nose at the butler. Why in the world his great-grandmother insisted on having human help was beyond him. But it was _de rigueur_ in France nowadays, she had confided in him at his last visit. But that was over a year ago and he had hoped she had grown out of that already.

The parlour he walked into oozed of ostentation. It dripped from the vaulted ceilings to the silken, golden wall covering onto the Louis XIV furniture, which he knew, had stood there since the reign of the aforementioned Sun King. In the middle of the room, ramrod straight, sat his paternal great-grandmother, looking the quintessential pure-blood witch. He took her frail hand in his and kissed her lace covered knuckles. He would spend some time with her, before retiring to his quarters.

He'd tell her about his life in London, mother and of course, the company. Under his leadership, Malfoy Enterprises was growing steadily and expanding into new branches, amongst others Muggle inventions. Not many were aware of all the businesses ME had its hooks in and he meant to keep it that way. His job was to let ME rise to never reached heights, how he was doing this, was no-one's concern but his. Just as his late father had done. Only, his father had chosen the opposite side of the spectrum to achieve this goal. And just look what that had brought the family; what it had brought Lucius Malfoy!

No, he had decided at the moment that he became the director of ME, that things were going to change, just like all of wizarding England had to change, at the end of the Second War. And this time, the Malfoys were going to take the legal route. This didn't mean that the company wasn't going to make any profit, though.

The butler was serving afternoon tea. One of the few things Madam Malfoy had incorporated after her son married an English woman. She still called them _the British_, as if it was a curse chuckled; prejudice didn't just include blood in his extensive family. No, his grandmother had had her fair share of discrimination from his French side of the family, for nothing other then being a witch who came from generations of careful pure-blood breeding, but English breeding and not French. And when great-grandmother's son had decided to remain in England after the binding ceremony that wed them, it had meant a rift that hadn't been repaired for many years. But finally it had and afternoon tea served at the French _Château Malfoy _was the result of the mended family ties after the birth of his father.

'Arrière-grand-mère, I hope you're well?' he asked between sipping his tea.

'Bien sûr, Draco. Bien sûr.'

He schooled his features not to show his boredom at these conversation games she kept playing. 'And has the weather been agreeable?'

'Bien sûr. Draco. Bien sûr.'

He knew she was pissed off at the fact that he didn't visit more often, but did she have to do this every bloody time he was here? And besides, she never visited Malfoy Manor more than once per annum.

'I hope the weather will keep for the summer. I have planned to visit the _Château _regularly the coming months.' This should get him a reaction other than "Bien sûr, Draco"! And, as he expected, the mask of indifference slid from his great-grandmother's face and her eyes lit up with a smile that played around her mouth.

'Ah Draco, c'est magnifique! We will have parties and you can meet _tout le monde.'_

_Yep, she was happy, _he concluded. _And meeting everyone was exactly what he wanted. Perfect!_

* * *

Parties at _Château Malfoy _were a sight to behold. Because of the season, the _orangerie_ had been transformed to a tropical ballroom, complete with exotic birds and butterflies. The man-servants had been traded in for traditional house-elves, Draco was relieved to see. He accepted a flute of champagne from one of them and took another turn about the room. Finally, he spotted the person he had been waiting for.

'Henri. Finally you show up, _ami_.' He slapped the blond man's shoulder. 'It has been too long!'

'Draco, finally, I was looking for you, but I got distracted.' With a grin he turned to point Draco in the direction of his distraction: a group of witches in elegant, although rather revealing, robes.

Draco couldn't say he knew any of them personally, but he certainly recognized one of them. 'You know them, Henri?' he queried. He got a affirmative nod from his friend.

'Then you must introduce me to them! It is my party, after all.'

The five witches were already waiting for them as they swaggered across the room. He could feel their eyes roaming his body and why shouldn't they? He was a Malfoy, after all, eye candy _and_ filthy rich to boot. Henri made the introductions, calling him his childhood friend and heir to the Malfoy fortune. As if he needed an introduction. The women were all pleasant to look at, he concluded, as he shook and kissed all of their hands. The last hand that was presented to him belonged to a svelte blonde.

'Draco, may I present Mademoiselle Delphine Palindrône. Mademoiselle Palindrône, Monsieur Malfoy.'

Draco kissed her knuckles whilst bending somewhat at the waist.

'_Enchanté_, Mademoiselle.' He looked boldly into her eyes and continued, 'Would you do me the honour of joining me for a waltz?' He noticed her eyebrow rising ever so slightly, but she acquiesced.

'Are you always this forward in your conduct around women, Monsieur Malfoy?'

He could hear the challenge in her voice, although she tried to pretend to be affronted at his lack of social decorum.'I tend to forget proper etiquette when presented with such an example of all that a pure-blood witch should be. Please forgive me for my impertinence,' he countered.

After some time, she continued. 'And do you seem to find yourself in situations like these very often?'

He chuckled. 'Luckily for my reputation, very little. Although in admitting this, I am yet again lacking in the proper respect any pure-blood witch might expect of me, since it forces me to admit that there are few, if any, who can hold a candle to you.' Draco let his eyes glide over her stature quickly, underlining his statement. The blush that crept up her cheek was charming, although he doubted it was a sincere one.

'_Mon Dieu, _Monsieur Malfoy! Are all you British so candid in you conduct with women?' She could not hide the laughter in her voice.

'Not at all, _ma petite_, not at all.' After this answer, he swirled her through a series of mind boggling turns. When they returned to dancing in a more relaxed manner, she looked at him with a glitter in her eyes and cheeks coloured from the exertion.

'Monsieur Malfoy, you sure know how to show a witch a good time,' she told him saucily, panting slightly.

'I like giving a witch a good work out, of course, but they never complain afterwards, I can assure you, Mademoiselle Palindrône.' With this last statement, he led them back to where their friends were waiting. He kissed her knuckles again, bowed and turned to a tall brunette, offering his hand as an invite to the next dance. The rest of the evening he danced with all the witches present, some twice, but he avoided dancing with Mademoiselle Palindrône again. _Let her wonder_, he decided.

* * *

The next occasion he had the chance to reacquaint himself with Mademoiselle Palindrône, was at a garden party he had made sure Henri would get them invited to. Henri had been somewhat surprised at his tenacity to convince him that they should attend. But his friend had to admit, in the end, that it was of course an ideal opportunity for meeting witches. The older ladies would remain at the patio, enjoying the shade, whilst most men would retreat to the billiards room. That left the younger ladies to wander the gardens, without chaperone.

They ended up in the enclosed courtyard, in the middle of the formal garden at _Château l'Armicourt, _entertaining the four ladies by conjuring up fireworks and butterflies, and transfiguring flowers into puppies and kittens. Delphine looked lovely in a buttery yellow summer dress. Her creamy legs seemed to go on forever and her blond hair swayed as she ran away from one of the puppies. Draco quickly calculated his possibilities and muttered _Avis Insequi_, whilst pointing his obscured wand at her.

A flock of yellow birds buzzed towards a now shrieking Delphine, who started to run away in earnest. He directed the birds to steer Delphine into the maze at the end of the lane. Leisurely, he followed her. He hadn't any trouble locating her; he just followed the trail of yellow feathers to find her cornered by the frantic birds. With exaggerated movements, he swished his wand from its holster and cast a _Finite Incantatum._

Then he stalked on, approaching a dishevelled looking Delphine, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on hers. He saw her shiver and in his mind he smirked, but outwardly he kept his features passive. His aggressive stance made her lean further back, but the hedge prevented her from retreating. He had her precisely where he wanted her. His hand stroked the blushing skin of her face and his thumb trailed the outline of her lips, before pressing his own to hers. He couldn't say she tasted specifically like anything, but it was nice altogether.

On her own accord, she opened up her mouth further to him and he grabbed her hips, pulling her tightly to him, whilst intensifying the kiss. She was good, this was not a quivering virgin. Thank the gods for that!

She moaned softly and he grinned at the sound. He revelled in the effect he had on women. Delphine's hands followed his spine and grabbed at his behind in order to obtain more friction onto her pelvis. She knew what she wanted. This was going to be easier than he had anticipated.

At the sound of voices, he broke their embrace and looked down on the small woman standing so close to him. Her hair had escaped her ponytail, her cheeks and lips were fiery red and the dress hung strangely on her form. A quick swish and flick sorted that out and they looked innocently enough when the rest of the party caught up with them.

'Go out with me Saturday, I have tickets to a performance of the Swan Lake at _l'Opera_,' he whispered in her ear when they were walking back out of the maze. She nodded.

* * *

Hermione pushed back another cuticle. She really should get a manicure. Her nails looked terrible. So many frayed edges. They were full of discolouration, too, in positively all colours of the rainbow, thanks to potions and ingredients she worked with every day. And her cuticles were growing onto her nails as well.

_Where was Ginny?_ She peeked another look at the entrance of _Madam Brew's Tearoom_.

'Would you like another cup of tea, Miss?' The little elf, she guessed it was female, looked at her with big, marble-like green eyes.

So now she was sipping at her second cup of tea. She felt slightly soothed by the warm liquid. She should relax. What on earth could happen to her here? They chance she would be jumped on by paparazzi was minute. And besides, since when did she hide? She was Hermione Granger. Potion Mistress. War hero. Smartest witch of her age! She couldn't live under her duvet cover for the rest of her life, but the idea had been tempting this last week. But she wouldn't hide. Not because of Gil Stone, not because anybody. She clanked the cup back down on the saucer with a bit too much force, drawing attention from the rest of the clientele. She smiled shyly. Gods, where was Ginny?

* * *

After crying about Groping Gil – as Ginny had dubbed him – for an hour, she was never going to talk about him ever again. Actually, she was through with _all _

men!

'I have had enough of men. My heart has been broken three times. It's enough,' she had grunted into her cup. They had switched from tea, to hot chocolate. After three of those delicious cups of warm, alcohol infused goodness, she decided it was time to share thoughts on her pathetic love life with Ginny.

From across the coffee table, Ginny gave her a puzzled look. The alcohol fog slowed her friends thought process down somewhat. 'What do you mean - three?' Ginny slurred at her.

'Well.' Hermione took another sip, 'you know about three, don't you? It comes after two and before four.' Hermione clumsily used her fingers to illustrate her explanation.

'Don't be ridiculous. Of course I know about three.' Ginny put her cup down and frowned, as if thinking hurt her head. 'I meant: how did you get your heart broken three times?'

'Painfully, that's how!'

Ginny disregarded Hermione's last remark. 'Hey, was there another one between that idiot brother of mine and _Groping Gil?'_

Hermione laughed at Ginny's puzzled face. 'No, no,' she giggled. 'No one. Gil came right after Ron. He picked up the pieces when I submerged from the dungeons again, remember?'

'Yeah,' Ginny muttered. 'But, you and Gil have just broken up. Have you already...?'

'Ugh, Ginny, of course I didn't get my heart broken twice in such a short time. Not even I'm that pathetic!' Hermione scolded.

It had been quiet for some minutes after this statement before suddenly something dawned in Ginny's mind. 'You had a crush before Ron. At Hogwarts!' she cried out triumphantly. 'Gods, I thought it was always Ron for you at Hogwarts. But, who broke your heart then?'

'Bugger!' Hermione mumbled. Drinking and confessions were a bad, bad mix. She tried to flee to the bathroom, hoping Ginny would have forgotten about this when she came back.

'Oh no you don't, young lady!' Ginny giggled and stood up with startling agility, pushing Hermione back on the settee. 'I want to know! Who can it be?'

Whilst keeping her seated, Ginny started talking to herself. Crossing off all of the boys she could think of that were in Hermione's year _and_ in Gryffindor. Seamus and Neville were disregarded. Soon the other boys as well. Then Ginny suddenly seemed to realise something, and she shouted out that the mystery boy probably wasn't in Hermione's year. Was he older than she was, Ginny wondered.

In her mind, Hermione laughed. Ginny was so barking up the wrong tree. Unfortunately, Hermione's tipsy state prevented her from masking her thoughts sufficiently and Ginny caught on. So, her friend concluded, the boy was in the same year, _but_ he must have been from another house.

At this point, the blood disappeared from Hermione's face and she tried to stifle a groan. Ginny wouldn't give up until she had her answer. As a smoke screen, she had desperately tried to convince Ginny that Gilderoy Lockhart was responsible for the heartbreak.

'Oh, don't be daft. That was just an unrealistic infatuation, I'm not buying that. No, I bet he was a...Slytherin!' She pointed her finger at Hermione's nose and cried out, ha! I'm right - you're turning completely red.' With a finger in her mouth, looking quite pensive, she appeared to be mentally going down the list of eligible candidates. 'It's either Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott or Draco Malfoy,' she reasoned.

At that point, Hermione had forced Ginny off of her and escaped to the safety of the bathroom. When Ginny wouldn't go away she started to protest, that this notion was absurd, that she most certainly did _not_ have a crush on a Slytherin. No, not even when she was just twelve and didn't know any better, thank you very much! And no, it was most certainly not that little bouncing ferret!

'_"The Lady doth protest too much, methinks_", Hermione!' Ginny gleefully exclaimed through the closed door.

'Actually, that is from _Hamlet_ and _protest_ in that context means proclaim and not argue against, so-'

Ginny cut her off. 'I don't care what you make of it, but you had a crush on Draco Malfoy!'

* * *

'I'm so sorry.' Ginny stumbled into her chair, bags and parcels flinging around her, almost knocking the tea service that appeared immediately, off the table.

Hermione couldn't keep the grin back at the sight of her best friend.

'Just as I was on my way out, mum floo'ed, and when I told her I was going into town, she - of course - gave me an extensive list,' at this she made a gesture at all the shopping, 'of things she _and_ Fleur absolutely needed. Gods, I do not want to know what will happen when Fleur is even further along. Poor dad!'

Hermione agreed. 'And poor Bill.'

'Poor Bill?' Ginny exclaimed. 'He chose to marry her! Dad didn't ask for them to stay at The Burrow while Shell Cottage is being remodelled.'

'Well, I can hardly believe your mother would have invited her son and very pregnant wife to stay without your dad's consent.' Hermione interjected.

'Pfft. Well, anyway, how are you? What did your boss say? Actually, what did you say? The truth, I hope?'

Yes, she had told the truth, tentatively. But thank goodness for her boss, Potions Master Vane. He turned out to be the father of three girls and grandfather of numerous granddaughters and he had been very understanding. He had told her all about the drama he experienced with all his girls. She had known he was related to Romilda, but now it was clear that he was her grandfather and the stories he could tell about that girl! At the end of the meeting, she had been laughing again for the first time since the break-up. Ginny was elated that it all had worked out so well.

'You see. The truth is always your best option!'

'Don't you look so smug, Mrs. Potter,' Hermione reprimanded.

'Well, it's not everyday I get to give you such solid advice,' Ginny told her, squaring her shoulders back and looking rather proud. They both giggled.

* * *

It was just a short distance from his office to the tearoom where he was to meet his mother. The draw-back of his mini holiday was that things tended to accumulate, which resulted in working on Saturdays. But now he was done and the weather was nice, so Draco decided he'd rather walk than apparate. His mind was still not fully back in England after a fortnight in France. He hoped the walk would clear his head sufficiently.

The last Saturday had gone splendidly. The ballet had been nice. The dancers were beautiful; their movements elegant and the music hypnotic. But he had kept his eye on Delphine who was sitting next to him in the private box he had booked. She looked the part. Her hair was swept up in an intricate pattern of loops and her make-up was subtle. She smelled of lavender and the dress was of a matching colour. They were nearing the break, when he decided he had seen enough of the ballet.

He successfully persuaded her to leave and they had apparated to a dark alley close to _Rue de Presbourg_. Delphine had removed the top layer of her dress, shrunk it and had put it in her evening bag. The lavender gown was now nothing more than some strategically placed patches of fabric on her body. She looked ravishing.

With three strides he had his hands around her waist and was kissing her. Again, she had reacted with passion, kissing him back, tongues wrestling between their mouths. She had moaned his name in that tantalizing French accent and had ground into him wantonly. His hand had slipped further down her body until he felt the skin of her thigh. On his way back up, he somehow wasn't surprised that he didn't encounter any underwear, just the humid curls that covered her sex. It had been hard to keep from taking her there, with her orgasm induced shrieks still echoing in his ears. But a dark, Parisian alley was not what he had in mind for Delphine.

The rest of the night was spent dancing in _L'étoille_, sipping on champagne and snogging. Around five in the morning he had escorted her back to her flat on _Avenue Montaigne_. He had declined the invite to join her upstairs, even though he was pressing uncomfortably against his trousers. After a kiss and the promise to return next weekend, he had returned to his quarters.

Maybe thinking about last weekend wasn't the best tactic, because he was feeling rather constricted again. He let some disgusting thoughts pass through his mind. Potter naked. Potter and his idiot brother-in-law naked, doing unspeakable things. He sighed. That was better!

* * *

'Ginny! Hermione!'

Both of them were so engrossed in their conversation, they were thoroughly startled by the dreamy voice which belonged to Luna Lovegood.

'How nice to see you both again. I'm so sorry I was unable to attend Harry's party.' She turned to Ginny. 'But you see, I was accompanying Neville on a very exiting excursion in the Peruvian rainforest. It was very successful, you know. I took some pictures of Corksnurfs and Wallygibbs. Those are going to be very handy for the book I'm writing about magical creatures of the rainforests. And of course, Neville found his Sparkling Orchidtree. It is really lovely and sparkly, although it doesn't smell very nice. Can I have a seat?'

Hermione snickered and Ginny joined in. Luna could really cheer up your day. They talked about their work, the party Luna and Neville had missed and Neville's grandmother, who seemed to live forever.

'You know, Hermione, I never liked that Stone boy. No.' Luna stopped talking for a bit as if she needed to think hard about something important. 'He had nice hair. Chestnut. A warm colour, like his eyes. Brown, right?' Hermione nodded, dumbfounded at Luna's remarks. 'Well, you know what? Sometimes people with the warmest disposition are the coldest at heart. And icy exteriors sometimes hide the most compassionate of souls,' Luna told them determinately.

Luna received puzzled looks from the other occupants of the small table. They stayed quiet for a bit, Hermione at loss what to say and Ginny probably as well, when Luna started talking again.

'This really was very nice. But I have to get to Flourish and Blotts. Don't want to be late to pick up Neville's book.' Hermione took a look at her watch. It was three o'clock, hardly any chance of being late, but she rose and placed a kiss on Luna's cheek nonetheless.

'What do you think that was all about? Icy exteriors and compassionate souls?' Hermione questioned Ginny whilst looking at Luna who was dancing towards the exit.

* * *

As he entered _Madam Brew's Tearoom_ he could just see Luna Lovegood saying her goodbyes to Ginny and Granger. He hadn't thought about either since the party, but seeing them brought back the memories of Granger's departure at the Potters that night. He wondered how everything was between her and Stone.

She looked rather nice today, he noticed. The light pink dress she was wearing suited her complexion. Mrs Potter looked stunning, like she always did and Lovegood, he chuckled, really, what _was _she wearing?

'Ladies,' he drawled. 'How lovely to see you again.' Ginny greeted him kindly, but Granger just muttered something under her breath.'Well Granger, I see the years haven't aided your eloquence.' He flashed a brilliant smile her way. This only seemed to darken her gaze more. 'I hate to hit and run, but I have a date waiting. Good day.' At that, he bowed and left.

'Mother.' He leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek. She looked at him lovingly and grabbed his hand to press it tightly to her mouth.

'Draco. I'm so glad you're here. How was France?'

'It was, let's say, satisfactory to a point,' he said. _Damn his meddling great-grandmother!_

She looked at him, puzzled.

'Of course great-grandmother just had to play _the game_.' Now his mother grimaced; she too was all too acquainted with _the game._

'But after I told her about my plans for this summer, she was quite pleased. She even threw me a party that weekend.'

'And your plans are what exactly? I believe in her letter she mentioned there was a nice ball.' She looked at him hopefully. He knew she wanted him to settle down, get married and produce an heir. Produce bi-weekly dinner guests, was more like it. He had no choice, he would have to confide in his mother…somewhat. With an obscured motion, he cast a _muffliato _charm around their table.

'Mother, I'm not there for pleasure, but for business.' Her eyes held a glint of hope. 'And I don't mean ME business, mother, you know what I speak of.' She knew indeed and a worried look appeared on his mother's face.

'Mother, you know it has...

'I know, Draco. It has to be done.' She looked so defeated and he hated it. 'When will it be enough, Draco? When will you consider the Malfoy name sufficiently restored? And at what cost?

He sighed and was never more grateful to the house-elves' timing, as a particularly strange one materialized at their table to enquire after their wishes. His mother switched into Madam Malfoy as she snapped at the poor elf and subsequently ordered for the both of them.

* * *

After Malfoy left, her mood did not improve. Ginny wasn't helping any; she kept going on and on. Wasn't Draco courteous? Wasn't Draco looking handsome in those slate-coloured robes? Didn't he treat his mother well? Because apparently that was who his _mystery date_ was. Ginny kept cooing and Hermione started to wonder why it was _Draco_ all of a sudden, instead of Malfoy, the name she used to refer to him.

She poured another cup of tea and stuffed a scone in her mouth. Maybe she should stuff one in Ginny's mouth, who was now going on about Draco's lovely hands.

'Look at those fingers, 'Mione!' Ginny exclaimed. The most annoying thing was, that since Malfoy was sort of sitting in her line of sight, she couldn't stop seeing him in her peripheral vision. So she shifted her chair slightly until she was sitting with her back to Malfoy and his mother. She felt better already.

'Hermione! Hey. 'Mione. Pay attention, will you!' Ginny was looking amused. 'Where is your mind wandering?' She laughed saucily. 'I bet you're thinking about what those hands can do to a body, right?'

Hermione looked back, annoyed. She was most certainly _not_ thinking about what those hands could do to a body. Her body. No! No body. No hands. Though, she had to admit, if she was being honest, he did have lovely hands with long, dexterous fingers. But that was just from a professional point of view. Long fingers and agility of those fingers were highly sought after in her line of work. But Ginny went on and on. Finally, Hermione had had enough.

'I bloody well don't care what Draco Malfoy can or cannot do with those fingers on a body, or my body for that matter. I do not want to have sex with that bloody bouncing ferret and I didn't have crush on him either. So give it a rest!' Hermione hissed, leaning across the table facing Ginny.

'And stop talking about how sexy he is. I don't want anybody to hear this kind of conversation!'

Before she even heard his voice, she felt an icy feeling travelling from the base of her skull down along her spine.

'Granger. I'm astounded at you! Speaking about my sexual prowess in public and in a ladies tearoom, no less. What would Stone say? Tut-tut.' He purred behind her. She felt the increase in heat in her body as he leaned further towards her and he whispered in her ear.

'But believe me, Granger, my fingers, they can perform magic on a woman's body. Maybe one day...'

He left this promise lingering in the air as he walked past them, heading to the restroom.

Hermione couldn't move. Her eyes were opened wide and her face was deadly pale, except for her red cheeks. She felt like she was burning up from shame. She didn't dare to look around to find out who had seen or heard what. It was only until Ginny told her that she was attracting attention with her rigid pose that she relaxed.

* * *

Draco managed to reach the restroom before he burst out in laughter, startling two elderly men who were occupying the room. He had noticed the eyes of both Ginny and Granger following him as he joined his mother. Ginny, who was more or less facing him, kept talking in an animatedly fashion to Granger. Again, he wished he could read lips, but interpreting their body language, he had surmised that he was the topic of discussion. After a while, had noticed Granger getting increasingly agitated; so much so that she moved her chair. Her attempt at doing this without attracting attention had failed. At that moment he knew he had the perfect opportunity to get under her skin. He remembered her self righteous attitude at the Potters and that had taken him way back to their years at Hogwarts.

She'd always been aloof, so distant. It annoyed him then, but now he saw it for what it really was. She wanted to keep everyone from seeing what she really was: insecure.

As he had stalked nearer, he hadn't been sure if Potter's vixen of a wife had spotted him or not. Somehow, he almost thought she had, and was setting her friend up. But he didn't care. Especially when he heard Granger finally responding to Ginny's flattering description of his skills and attributes. He wished he could have seen her face as he spoke to her back, but he was content when he saw her body react to his voice and presence.

As he looked around the partition wall he could just see both women getting ready to leave. Granger's face was a brilliant shade of red and she fidgeted non-stop with the black robe she was now wearing over her dress. When Ginny finally had rounded up all the bags and parcels, Hermione literally dragged her out of the tearoom.

_Gods_, he thought, _that Granger is a handful. But I bet she's worth it. Let's hope Stone realises this._

He waited a bit longer, to make sure he wouldn't run into them, before exiting the restroom and joining his mother once again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The fine silk of Delphine's sheets slid off his torso as Draco turned to his other side. Although he loved the bedding, he just couldn't find the right spot to sleep in. Maybe staying had been a mistake. But in all honesty, after the copious amounts of liqueur he had imbued, he was in no form to apparate or even Floo. So now he was just lying here. His bed partner was still fast asleep; making soft wheezing sounds he didn't particularly enjoy hearing. Estimating by the light that was slowly filtering in from underneath the curtains, he expected it to be around seven in the morning.

Just as in the past few weeks, this Saturday morning had found him collecting his international port-key from the Ministry office for international travel. He had apparated from the French office to his quarters at _Le Château _and had breakfast with his great-grandmother_, _who was once again delighted with his attendance.

That she was delighted with the attention she received from her great-grandson, was blatantly obvious at the last family dinner he joined at the Manor on Friday. After the end of the war, the end of his father's life and tyranny over the Malfoy household, bi-weekly family dinners had been reinstated. Unfortunately, nowadays, they did not consist of the once bustling company of Blacks and Malfoys it once had. It was just his aunt Andromeda and her young grandson, his mother and himself. Although, his mother had told a very interested Andromeda, according to a very flattering report from grandmère Malfoy, she suspected an addition to the table in the near future. Leave it to his mother to boast about things he wanted to keep locked away. He had been left to entertain the young metamorphagus nephew after this. His mother and aunt were chatting merrily about courtships and weddings. Bloody hell!

Although, after their date at the tea-room, his mother knew better but she could not resist fantasizing it seemed.

It had been nice to meet, just the two of them. Since he'd moved out of the Manor and in to an apartment near the city, they saw much less of each other. But it had been particularly hard to discuss what he was doing with Hermione. It took her back to times which she was desperate to forget. _Please, be careful Draco, you're all I have left. I will not lose another to the darkness. _Those words weighed on his heart.

Next to him, Delphine shifted in her sleep, exposing her breasts to the cool morning light. With her hair draped like silver embroidery silk over her pillow and back, she looked like a manifestation of the goddess Venus. He wondered what goddess she would be by merit, probably Eris of Nemesis.

'Delphine Palindrône?' His mother had cringed slightly when he told her that he had started dating the French woman. 'She's related to Balzac Palindrône, is she not?' his mother asked.

He had confirmed the relation. 'He is her great-grandfather, mother.'

'They are a very, very old Pureblood family. Very old and very dark, Draco. Balzac attended Durmstrang, if I'm not mistaken. He was around when Grindelwald was in power. Are you sure you want to be playing with fire of that magnitude?'

'It is not as if our family, both of them actually, are not just as old or dark.' He had flippantly remarked.

'Do not play coy with me, young man. You had better be very, very serious about taking this route,' she had snapped. After some time, she continued. 'I gather, you will attempt to keep this _relationship_ a secret over here?'

'I'll try. It gives me the opportunity to move freely, without _the Prophet _or _Quibbler_ on my case every turn I take. 'He took a sip of his tea. 'Thank the Gods for small miracles. _The Prophet _and _the Quibbler _got such a bashing for publishing propaganda during the war, I don't believe there is even one subscription left outside of the United Kingdom. They gave up their offices abroad some time ago. As long as we remain at private homes or exclusive venues, we should be saved from the paparazzi.'

They had argued a bit more for a while. She had told him more about what she knew about the Palindrône's and the Balludieu's, Delphine's maternal family. She hadn't been joking when she told him that this was one very dangerous and dark family. Apparently his late Aunt Bella had even dated one of the Palindrône boys, before her betrothal to Rabastan Lestrange, and he knew exactly what his Aunt Bella preferred in both men as well as their families.

* * *

'_Chéri_, I want you to come to _le Vignoble_ today.'

It was now almost noon and Delphine had finally emerged from the bathroom. He looked back from the view out of the window while taking another bite of his croissant. 'Hmm. Any particular reason you want me to come to your families vineyard?'

'_Non,_ not particularly. There is to be an impromptu garden party and I want to introduce you to my family. My great-grandfather has been asking about you...'

She let the rest of the sentence unspoken, but he knew what she meant. 'I'm honoured. I'll rebook my port-key. Make the best of this weekend, because next weekend I'll not be able to come over.' That should set her straight; he was no lapdog to be ordered around by any woman, even if she got him a meeting with Balzac Palindrône.

She looked at him accusingly and started to open her mouth, no doubt to complain. With a finger on her lips, he shushed her and stared her straight in the eye. 'Don't, Delphine. I will not be told by anyone what my priorities are!' He placed his hand on her cheek and kept looking her in the eye, daring her to oppose him. When her stance relaxed and she obviously submitted to his will, he let his hand drop from her face to her neck and further down her slender form to stroke her labia. 'And right now, my priorities clearly are to enjoy this weekend.'

* * *

Ironic, Hermione thought to herself, that just when things were quieting down in the dungeons, she didn't have a significant other anymore to share that increase in free-time with. After successfully brewing the _Felix Felicis_ potion, her order portfolio was rather empty. The Auror department, her best client , needed a batch of Polyjuice potion that was already brewing. St. Mungo's had requested three different healing pastes and a gallon of Skele-Gro.

Since the Ministry had bought the patent of the Rubens Winikus Company after the excessive need of it after the war, this particular potion was requested frequently, both by St. Mungo's and Hogwarts. By now she could brew that potion in her sleep.

After lunch, she headed back down the dungeons. She was thinking of maybe researching illnesses and curses which were still incurable, even in the wizarding world. Hermione was so caught up in her musing that she completely missed the two people waiting in front of her entrance door. With her hand already reaching for her wand to take down her wards, she bumped into something solid and she yelped in surprise.

'Shit! Ginny! Harry! Really!' She stabbed her finger into Harry's chest. 'Is this to be a recurring thing, Harry, you scaring me to my wits end?' Her other hand was still covering her frantically beating heart.

He snickered. 'Let's hope not. I seem to be causing grey hairs already.' Jokingly, he brushed away a stray lock of her hair.

'Don't even joke about things like that!' she admonished him, but taking down the wards and opening the door nevertheless and inviting them to follow her in. They both took a seat, wearing serious look on their faces. Warning bells went of.

'I know that look...what's wrong?' Hermione asked.

'Before I can tell you, 'Mione, you need to...' Both he and Ginny retracted their wands from their holsters.

'An _Unbreakable Vow_?' Her eyebrows rose, but she whisked out her wand as well. 'What am I vowing to?' She enquired.

'Vow that the information I am about to divulge will stay secret and will only be shared by those who are aware of this information.' He spoke solemnly.

'How do I know who knows, besides us three. I mean, there are others, right?'

'I'll tell you who is to be trusted. _The Vow_, Hermione!' He pressed.

'Okay!'

'Hermione Granger, will you solemnly vow not to divulge any information you are about to receive, other than with designated insiders?' Ginny asked.

Hermione nodded. 'I will!' She stared into Harry's eyes. This was only the second time after the war she had been requested to make _a Vow _this grave.

'Hermione, I had you make that vow for several reasons. None of which because I don't trust you, believe me. Firstly, because others had to take it. But most importantly, so you cannot be coerced or even tortured into revealing the information.'

Shocked, her eyes widened. This seemed to be so top-secret, that death was to be preferred above handing over the information. 'I gather this is official Ministry Business, then?'

He nodded. 'There are just seven people who are aware of what I'm about to tell you.' The wand he had still in his hand was set to work after Ginny had left to go back to her office. She recognized the intricate patterns used to lay the heaviest of security, muffling and anti-spy wards known. The sinking feeling that this wasn't going to be pretty prevented her from truly admiring Harry's level of skill.

After the vow was set, Hermione and Harry had talked for over an hour. She had listened, asked questions and now was left sitting, completely stumped. Of course she was going to help! She would do everything in her power to find a solution. But the news just hadn't fully sunk in yet.

'For fuck's sake,' she mumbled, 'is this ever going to end?' If what Harry had told... She stopped right there. Of course what he had told her was the truth, even though she'd rather he were wrong. Death Eaters. They were back.

Well, not back exactly. They were regrouping again. And they were organized enough to have began threatening people again. The eleven victims had been attended to and obliviated. Not to cover up. Not this time. But the Aurors needed breathing space. Time to investigate, to regroup, to plan and plot and to make sure that they would beat them once and for all!

Seven people knew, Harry had told her. One of them was the Minister of Magic, the other the Prime Minister of England. Harry, who led the investigation and Ginny, as designated Unspeakable. Also Harry's predecessor, Mr. Fonst, who still helped, even though he was retired now. The sixth was Harry's right-hand, Samuel Alcides. The last person was the undercover agent. Harry wasn't inclined to tell her his or her name. He'd said that this was strictly "need to know".

And now she was added to this list.

'Do you now understand the need for _the Vow_?' Harry wanted to know.

Yes, she understood completely. This rivalled her work for the Order, considering the danger and the need for her intellect. The Neo Death Eaters, as they were now called, had been using a potion on their victims. No doubt Dark in origin and apparently lethal. By incredible luck, some of the potion had been found at the last crime scene. Her job would be to determine the ingredients, subsequently remake the potion that made them up and after that, brew an antidote. 'We can fight them in duels, even in ambushes, but these sneak attacks, 'Mione, we're defenceless at the moment. That has to stop. We have to turn the tide, before they can start attacking at large scale and mass hysteria breaks out.' Harry had told her.

They sat there for some time. Dazed, well at least that is how she felt. When suddenly, Harry spoke again.

'Ah, I almost forgot. Because Ginny couldn't stay – she had a meeting, I believe, she asked me to tell you that we're having a dinner party this Saturday, so if you would like to switch to coming around then, instead of Sunday.'

This abrupt change in subjects felt so ridiculous, Hermione burst out into giggles. 'Thanks, Harry, I needed that. But tell Gin I'll be there around noon.'

'Women,' Harry muttered to himself as he left the lab with a grin on his face, Hermione still laughing in the background.

* * *

It was Saturday afternoon in Godric's Hollow and Hermione's singing was barely audible above the clatter in the kitchen. She had the Pavlova drying in the oven and the soup was cooling down, ready to be reheated. The cheese was airing, like the red wines. The white ones were cooling. The crackers to accompany the cheese were ready to be baked.

Ginny had really outdone herself, Hermione laughed out loud, remembering the state the kitchen was in when she arrived. It was an irate Ginny who opened the door, face flustered, hair sticking out at odd angles and covered in white powder, probably flour. Ginny had almost dragged her into the house, while exclaiming that she was _this_ close, measuring half an inch between her fingers, to blowing up the entire kitchen. Hermione had been surprised - this was not the first time Ginny and Harry had thrown a dinner party. But this wasn't just a dinner party with family and hearty dishes. No, Ginny had decided to have a formal dinner party, with the matching elaborate courses. And she had invited twelve people to attend.

Hermione had collected all of the recipes, sorted the ingredients and figured out in what order things were to be made. It was an extensive operation. First there was oxtail soup, summer salad, salmon with asparagus and hollandaise sauce, forest fruit Pavlova and to end it all, a cheese plate with crackers, grapes and dried figs. All this for twelve people! She hadn't even asked who these twelve were, there wasn't any time. And since Ginny would be no use to her, she just pushed the tired red-head out of the kitchen.

After about an hour, Ginny had stuck her head through the kitchen door and asked her if she would mind terribly if she joined Harry in a Quidditch game in the backyard. They had a quarter-sized pitch hidden behind the trees in the back of the garden. When Hermione would look out of the kitchen window, she would see a blur of someone on a broom chasing a Snitch every now and then. Or she'd see two flyers duelling in the sky. Well she'd rather be here, cooking and singing and dancing around. Her fear of flying wasn't as big as it once was, but still, it was not her favourite past-time.

She took a look at the recipe cards. She was almost done. The brunt of the work was finished. Ginny just needed to fry the fish and make the hollandaise sauce. The rest was just heating and assembling.

She swished her wand to clean up. She liked to cook Muggle style, but when it came to cleaning up, magic was the way to go. She started singing yet another song.

'_With the taste on your lips_

_ I'm on a ride_

_ You're toxic_

_ I'm slipping under'_

She danced around the kitchen, swirling her hips, emulating the dance moves she had seen the artist make on Top of the Pops last night.

'_With a taste of your poison paradise_

_ I'm addicted to you_

_ Don't you know that you are toxic_

_ And I love what you do_

_ Don't you know that you're toxic'_

* * *

Draco had been surprised when his secretary had entered his office with a missive from Potter. He briefly wondered if dinner had been cancelled, but it was an invite to join a game of Quidditch. He never was one to miss out at on a game and the pitch Potter had in his back garden was as impressive as the one his parents had built at the Manor. It was still there, of course, but he didn't use it that often these days. After he moved out, it no longer felt like home.

So, there he was, hovering around, trying to spot the Snitch in this pre-dinner game.

On his left side, Flint came hurtling past. 'Oi, Malfoy! Getting a bit slow in your old age?'

Bloody Flint. He'd show him. He accelerated and rushed past him so close, Flint's hair flew up.

'Show-off!' Flint sneered.

'Make up your mind, Flint!' He bellowed at his former teammate. On the other side of the pitch, he could see the Potters, both trying to score.

'So, Flint, where did you leave your lovely date? Afraid she would kick your lily-white arse?' He asked when the former Slytherin Quidditch captain was once again in his vicinity.

'The Harpies had a training this afternoon. Picking her up later.' He glanced at his wrist. 'Shit. In half an hour. Oi, Potter!' Flint shouted across the pitch to where Potter now seemed to have bested his wife.

Weasley appeared on his broom next to them. 'Never mind them,' he said. 'They won't notice us leave.' In the distance, Weasley's date flew toward them.

Flint laughed in agreement. 'Right then, I'm off. See you all later.' Flint landed and apparated away with a grin.

'We're going home to change as well.' Weasley said and put an arm around his girlfriend, who had arrived at his side. 'Right, love?' She nodded and they too flew to the edge of the pitch to apparate home.

After landing his broom at the edge of the garden, Draco sauntered back to the house. He picked up the overnight bag, with his suit and toiletries, from the patio chair and entered through the back-door. Kreacher was making a lot of noise in the kitchen and Draco had no intention of getting in the way of that cranky house-elf. He followed the hallway to the stairs, sneering as he went. He was sweaty and tired and in desperate need of a shower.

When he stepped out of the downstairs shower, he was surprised to hear singing coming from the kitchen. He'd heard elves singing before and he was sure this was no elf. Through the back door he could still see the Potters flying around. So, who was it in the kitchen?

Slowly, he pushed at the door, the sound becoming louder.

'_With the taste on your lips_

_ I'm on a ride_

_ You're toxic_

_ I'm slipping under'_

He poked his head through the door and was surprised at what he saw. There, with her back to him, was Hermione Granger, singing. And dancing and Gods, she was dancing like a pro - her hips swaying so seductively. She was wearing a top so skimpy he'd think it was underwear, and a skirt that skimmed her thighs.

He'd never seen Granger in anything other than sensible clothing, even at parties, but _wow_, she looked stunning.

'_With a taste of your poison paradise_

_ I'm addicted to you_

_ Don't you know that you're toxic_

_ And I love what you do_

_ Don't you know that you're toxic'_

She was singing the words to a song he had never heard before. Her voice sounded sultry and the lyrics, bloody hell... But what was she doing here? He looked around and saw dishes magically being washed and ingredients flying through the air to the opened pantry. But she seemed to be doing the cooking without magic.

'Quite the lyrics for a Potion Mistress to sing, Granger.' he drawled.

She spun around, the flowing skirt rising even more, showing her legs. 'Malfoy! What are you doing here?' She turned bright red.

'Well, hello to you too, Granger.' He walked towards her.

'Lovely of you to prepare dinner with such...dedication.' He eyed her flour-covered hands and followed the flour trail to her torso.

She turned around again, commenced doing what ever it was, breathing deeply. He could feel the annoyance coming off of her in waves. He had to defuse this and quickly, otherwise this evening would get rather trying. He looked at the dishes; the pots and pans and even the oven was in use, preparing food.

'I'm just kidding, Granger. I'm really quite impressed by all of this. I hardly even cook magically and you seem to be preparing a feast all by yourself. Muggle style.'

Once again she turned back around and looked at him quizzically. He smiled at her. She frowned. He smiled wider. She raised an eyebrow.

'Granger, you might want to clean up, though. You look like a Blast-Ended Skrewt.' He stretched his arm to reveal the Rolex from under his dinner jacket. 'It is already half past six and I think you'll need all the time you can get.'

The Potters entering the kitchen broke the glaring contest. Ginny squealed her gratitude for Granger's efforts and Potter led Draco to the sitting room for a cigar and a tumbler of Firewhiskey.

* * *

'So, what was that between you and Draco, when we got back in?'

Hermione groaned. 'He walked in on me dancing and singing, covered in flour, amongst other things.'

'Oh, really?' Ginny applied some more lipstick. 'What were you singing?'

'That new Britney Spears single. You remember her?'

Ginny remembered. 'She's the one with the saucy lyrics, right?'

'Right. After that, he commented about my cooking and told me I should clean up because I looked like a Blast-Ended Skrewt.'

'Hmm. What were the lyrics about?'

She repeated them to Ginny.

Ginny grinned. 'And he heard you singing that?'

'Yep.'

'Funny. Seeing as you're a Potion Mistress. Singing about someone being toxic.'

'He thought so as well.'

'Did he now?' Ginny's eyebrow rose.

Hermione sighed. 'Apparently.'

* * *

She had been mortified to discover Malfoy standing behind her in the kitchen. She knew the song she was singing was suggestive, to say the least, certainly in that outfit. And the way she was dancing! She could only imagine how that must have looked. To top it off, she really did look a mess. She was covered in not only flour, but also forest fruits, egg whites and much more. She'd always been a very messy cook.

Gods, she just hated him. And he of course had stood there, freshly showered; his hair slicked back, his eyes sparkling with mirth. The suit he was wearing probably cost more than everything she had in her wardrobe. Including all of her shoes. He looked like someone walking out from a fashion shoot. And now she was trying to do the best she could with the plain dress she had brought, because no-one had bothered to tell _her_ that this was a formal dinner!

She turned to the other side for the third time. _Let's face it_, she thought,_ this is not getting any better_. Shit! She didn't want to go downstairs. Ginny, who went downstairs to set the table, was wearing a lovely purple dress. The other women – one of them probably being Malfoy's stunning date, if he had brought one - would be wearing equally lovely ones, she was sure. The bed in the guestroom creaked under her weight. Double shit!

Wait a minute! Why did she even care what she looked like? She was over men, remember? Besides, there was nothing wrong with her dress. She got back in front of the mirror. It fit her nice enough. It was black with a pretty neckline and she liked the cap sleeves. The problem with it was that Gil had hated it. She had bought it to wear to the first dinner party at the Brakkenwells.

She twirled around in her new dress - the full skirt leaving her sun-kissed legs bare from the knee down. She gave Gil a happy smile. 'Do you like it?'

'You look like you're middle-aged, darling.' Gil looked at her with a pout. He continued, 'I want to show you off. I want to show what a stunning person you are, darling.' Sometimes she really did wonder if he remembered her name at all.

She blushed at his compliment all the same, feeling flattered. Gil loved taking her places, doing things together and showing her off. That was so different from what she had had with Ron. He never told her she was lovely or special. He never wanted to do things together. Well, only things he was interested in, like playing and watching Quidditch, Sunday's at the Burrow and...

'You must have something other than this granny dress!' Gil's voice had interrupted her thoughts.

'But I just bought it. I bought it especially for this dinner party. The lady in the store told me it was a classic and it flattered me and...' She had started ranting. The dress had cost her almost a month's salary.'

In the end, she had changed into the dress she wore to the ministry ball and Gil had finally been pleased.

* * *

A knock at the door took her back to the mirror in the guestroom of the Potters. Harry stepped into the room.

'Ginny just told me off for not telling you this was – is - a formal dinner.' He blushed. 'But really, I have to say, you look lovely. 'He ended his speech cheerfully. Clearly remembering he was there to make amends, he continued more subdued tone. 'But, I brought you something that will make it up to you, to spruce up your dress.' He handed over a small box. As she opened it, he started to talk again. 'They were my mother's and Ginny thought they would look nice with your dress. So I want you to borrow them, for tonight.'

The pearl brooch and earring set she was looking at were just stunning. 'Harry, these are so beautiful!'

'Just like you, 'Mione. Don't forget it...again.'

She couldn't care less that it would wrinkle her dress, or tousle her hair, or even ruin her make-up. She just needed to hug him, tightly and kiss him. 'I love you, Harry Potter.'

* * *

He was impressed. And that was saying something. Draco Malfoy did not get impressed easily. But this dinner party was coming together brilliantly. Ginny had somehow charmed the china so that each course floated in from the kitchen under a stasis charm, regulating the temperature and preserving the aroma. Once all the plates were set, the stasis charm was lifted with a flick of her wand and the most delicious odour wafted into his nose. There was no need for house-elves or even getting up from the table to get the next course.

Flint joked that he now saw the advantage of having an Unspeakable as a wife, who apparently - amongst other things – developed new charms. Harry joked back that the true advantage of such a wife was indeed because of unspeakable things. Ginny swatted his arm, but had joined in the laughter nonetheless.

He had been surprised, when they were seated, to find him opposite of Granger. Until that moment, he hadn't realised they were missing one Gil Stone. He had seen her coming in with Potter. She looked stunning in a elegant black dress. Regrettably, he hadn't been able to steer himself near her, instead he had been talking to Samuel Alcides and his wife and to Flint and his date, Ulla.

'So, tell me, Granger. Does Mr. Stone appreciate your unspeakable talents? In the kitchen, I mean?' Draco asked her. He saw a crimson blush creep up from her neck, up to her cheeks. Before she could answer, Ginny cut in.

'Well, thank you, Malfoy. Now I have to fess up. Hermione is responsible for this lovely dinner.' She said turning to her guests and telling them what a wonderful cook her friend was.

Granger started to wave her hands to dismiss Ginny's praise, blushing even brighter. He had never seen any woman blush as much as Granger, but instead of finding it annoying, he found it cute. Her face really was like a mirror to her soul.

'No use denying it, Granger.' Draco smirked. 'I'm a witness. Gentlemen, I have to say, you have missed a spectacle! When I stepped into the kitchen earlier this evening, there was our domestic Goddess, our Hestia.' He looked around to look all of the men in the eye. 'She was luring me in, gentlemen, not just with the enticing smells you have witnessed so far, but with her seductive song of love and poison. And of course her dancing, which is an art form on its own.' He ended up staring straight at Granger, who at this point had turned entirely red. She started to talk, but no words came out. He had not only made her blush even more profusely, which gave him an obscene sense of pleasure and he had also managed to silence Hermione Granger. What an exhilarating feeling.

Finally, it was Weasley who broke the silence and gave Granger a moment to gather herself.

'Well, I say Stone is a bloody wanker and any man should be proud to have 'Mione here wield her sceptre over his heart and home.'

Luna pitched in with some ridiculous conviction, but he was still trying to make sense of Weasley's little speech. Did Stone and Granger have a fight, or did they end it all together? He took another look at Granger, she seemed all right. Not very sad, or like women tend to look when they just ended a relationship. But honestly, it had been a few weeks since the party where he had seen them and their fall-out. But when he had met her in the little tea-room, she had seemed a bit off, as far as he could tell.

Granger seemed to have found her voice again. 'Yes, well, you certainly forgot to tell everybody that when I cook, I create a bombsite in the kitchen, Malfoy! I can't imagine Hestia looking like a Blast-ended Skrewt, as you so kindly compared me to.'

At this, the other ladies gasped and admonished him fervently. Granger had saved herself, admirably so. He smirked and nodded in her direction.

Shortly after this, the last course of the evening arrived at the table. Alcides wife enquired after the recipe for the cheese crackers and the moment was gone.

* * *

The rest of the evening Draco kept flirting with Granger. Sending her smiles, complementing her on her cooking, as well as her attire. When they traded the dinner table for the sitting room, he kept close to her. Standing besides her, making sure his arm would brush hers every so often or seeking contact through other ploys. Draco could barely contain his laughter at her reaction to his taunting. But he had to say, he liked playing with her and whenever he touched her, be it with his sleeves or with his hand, she shivered and stiffened. If he didn't know any better, he would say she was a beginner at flirting.

The evening was slowly turning to night, most of them slightly tipsy at this time. He had just offered Granger to get her something to drink, but she declined his offer, proclaiming she was not thirsty. Minutes later, he saw her sneaking out of the sitting room. _She's probably getting herself a drink. The coward!, _he thought. She was running away from him and he didn't expect her back soon. She would probably think that this retreat would save her from his attentions. Silly girl. He got up and went after her.

The female laughter he heard in the hallway wasn't Granger's. The fake sound seemed to come from the garden, where he could see three figures. Hushed voices were talking in the dark and he stalked closer to hear what they were saying.

'So, Stone dumped her because she's frigid?' Draco recognized the voice of Marcus Flint.

'Yes, that is what he told Ingrid. She rarely wanted, you know, to do it. And only in the boring ways. Plus, she always dresses like a granny. Gil likes the way Ingrid dresses.' Flint's German date was speaking now, her thick German accent a give-away.

'Well, Gil isn't the only one who had complaints about her fashion sense, ' Weasley's girl slurred. 'Ron chewed her up for it, at the Ministry Ball some years ago.' She giggled. 'But that really wasn't a very nice of Ron to do, you know. Out in the open.'

Draco's ears were ringing. Apparently Stone, the idiot, had dumped Granger. And had quickly replaced her with Ulla's blond friend. And apparently Shanna's scruples didn't extend to her need to gossip, especially when she had had one too many.

The conversation between Flint, Ulla and Shanna went on. It seemed the last four years of Granger's life were being divvied up like a Muggle soap opera. He felt ashamed that he stood there, listening to it all. Suddenly, he wondered where Granger was. If she was in the kitchen, as he expected, there was a fair chance that she could be hearing all of this. Gently, he pushed open the kitchen door, only to see her there, standing in the dim light. Her body was rigid, her hands clamped down on the countertop. Her breathing sounded pained. Shit! No doubt about it, she could hear everything that was being said on the patio. This was too painful, he had to do something. Something to shut those gossiping vultures up, to end this torture.

He stepped back into the hallway, took a deep breath and charged into the kitchen.

'So Granger,' he had prompted as he flicked the switch, 'I know you think you can escape me. But you have been taunting me all day. First with that seductive skirt you were dancing in, and now with this elegant number you're wearing. I think it is time I came to collect.' With that, he grabbed her, spun and dipped her. He made sure they were right in front of the window to the back garden, before looking into her startled eyes and kissing her soundly on the mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hermione groaned. Her head hurt. Badly.

Slowly, she opened one eye, only to close it again quickly to avoid the steaming sunlight that flooded the room. She must have forgotten to close the curtains when she got back from the dinner party. What time was it, anyway? She swatted around the bed, trying to find her alarm-clock. She couldn't find it. Shit, she couldn't even find her bedside table. Had she knocked it over?

For a minute, she lay there, wondering if she should just go back to sleep and hope that waking up later in the day would have solved the undeniable hangover. But then she thought better of it and once again opened one of her eyes. She immediately understood why she wasn't able to find her alarm-clock. It wasn't there, because this was not her room. At the other end of the room, on a table, she saw the tell-tale sparkle of potions vials. Hangover potion, she prayed. Maybe pepper-up, as well.

When she stumbled back to bed, after downing both, she felt so much better. And so much worse. Last night came back with roller-coaster speed. Draco's flirting, her escape to the kitchen and the confrontation of hearing her life being told by others. It wasn't a pretty story, either. She had stood there, frozen to the spot, wishing fervently that something would happen so she would be able to move again! And boy did it ever. With her fingers she traced are lips. She could still feel them on hers.

It had been mind-blowing all together. Once Draco had hauled her up from the dip he manoeuvred her in, it felt like the time that had seemed to be standing still washed over her in one big swoop. She had thought she would combust from the embarrassment. Not only were her critics outside witnesses to the kiss, but they would surely understand she had heard everything they had said about her. Had Draco heard? She had no idea, and frankly, she wasn't about to wait and find out. She'd fled, once again, this time barricading herself in the downstairs bathroom.

She knew, of course, that she couldn't stay there for all eternity. Malfoy made sure that he reminded her of this fact several times. He had stood outside of her hide-out telling her she should face the music. That she had nothing to be ashamed of. By the time she mustered up the courage, Flint and his date had already left. Shanna was sitting next to Ron, holding on to his arm, as if she was afraid of what Hermione would do. She would do nothing. She'd undergone enough embarrassment for one night.

She groaned. Well, obviously, she had found even lower levels to sink to. Because, after rejoining the party, she could barely remember much else. And here she was. Not in her own bed. Not in her own pyjama's. And Gods, she really needed to pee.

The other bedroom doors were open. Downstairs, she could hear Ginny singing and clanging things together in the kitchen. Breakfast sounded nice. She'd just put on her clothes from yesterday and go downstairs.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was unruly, but thankfully her make-up had been removed. She stared at her lips. The same lips that Malfoy had kissed last night. Why had he kissed her? She closed her eyes and sighed. She just didn't understand his need to flirt with her all of a sudden.

It started with that ridiculous remark, his so called compliment, at the party some weeks ago. True, they hadn't seen each other in years. But, really, it's not as if she had changed that dramatically. Not that much as to warrant his sudden interest in her, instead of his sneering and insults. Even when they fought together in the Order, she had kept her distance from him. And he from her. They'd never worked together and she only battled with twice. Once at Diagon Alley, the other time during the final battle. She looked in the mirror again, at her lips; they were still puffed and red.

Walking back to the guestroom she stopped. Shouldn't she get a shower first? She looked down to her nightgown. She had the same pair, but these were Ginny's and therefore a size to small. And they were quite see-through. She hadn't seen a dressing gown. Going downstairs wearing this definitely wasn't an option. Why on earth did Ginny put her in this? She couldn't well believe this was the most decent nightgown she owned. And, besides, a nice, hot shower did sound tempting. She turned around and before she could move, looked straight into the face of...Draco Malfoy!

_

* * *

He was spending too much time at this house_, Draco thought. They should set up a guestroom for him, like they did for Granger, who was, no doubt, still sleeping off her massive hangover. Last night had been – let's say – fun. He snickered. After he'd snogged Granger in the kitchen, she had ran from him. As well as from the spectators outside the kitchen window, of course. The best snog of his life, he had declared to the wide-eyed spectators and then had left to find her.

When she had finally decided to leave the comforts of the bathroom, she had started to drink. By the time the others, noticed, she'd been thoroughly sloshed. An embarrassed Granger was fun. But a sloshed Granger, was hilarious.

'Draco Malfoy, why are you stalking me?' Hermione had slurred at him.

Malfoy grinned at her. 'Well, Granger, you certainly thrive on _Dutch courage_, don't you?'

'Huh? What do you mean, Malfoy?' She scrunched her eyebrows together.

_Yep, she was smashed!_ He kept grinning at her, knowing full well it would rile her even further. She was draped in a low chair, the black dress riding up her thighs with every movement she made, her hair fanning around her shoulders over the back of the chair. 'Why does it bother you so much, that I'm interested in you?' Draco asked

'But that, my dearest Malfoy, 'she had giggled after saying this, 'that is the point, you know.'

'And what point might that be, Granger?'

'You can't possibly like me.' She shook her head and tried simultaneously to take another sip of her drink. She giggled again. It sounded sweet. 'Didn't you know, I'm a lousy, a lousy girlfriend?'

'Are you now?' He looked at her, amused. 'Well, thank goodness for that. I was only looking to fuck you!'

She had laughed loudly at this; her head resting on the back of the chair. She had such white teeth. She looked so relaxed, in her intoxication. She started to hick-up. 'But Malfoy, haven't you heard? I'm, apparently, not only a lousy, _lousy_ girlfriend, I'm also a very lousy fuck!' She snapped her head back up. She wasn't laughing anymore, he noticed. It was her eyes again that caught him by surprise. So much emotion was on display there that he couldn't easily look away. That was until she downed Firewhiskey number seven and was unable to get up for a refill.

When she started to sway in her chair, Potter noticed and that ended the fun.

When Ginny had taken Hermione upstairs, because she was almost unconscious, Potter had confronted him. His defence, that he didn't know Hermione couldn't hold her liqueur and that she, all of a sudden, got sloshed, seemed to hold up. Been there, Potter confided in him. Ah, Granger really was a lightweight.

Here he was, back again, at the scene of the crime, the sitting room at the Potters house. But now for an entirely different reason. The developments in the case were picking up. Last night there had been another attempt. No potion had been left behind, but the Aurors had been warned in time. There'd been a duel and at least some of the Neo Death Eaters were wounded. They hadn't been able to catch one, but now they at least knew what they looked like. After the war, the classic Death Eater garb had been abandoned.

Now they were wearing dark-green robes, but they seemed tailor-made, and didn't interfere with duelling, like traditional wizarding robes. Instead of a full mask, they wore a sliver of silver which only covered the eyes and eyebrows. Draco had examined the pensieves, courtesy of the Aurors, several times. He was by far the most accomplished in the Dark Arts, but some of the hexes he saw flying through the air still had him baffled. He needed to talk to Potter about this development and to inform him about the progress Granger was making with deciphering the potion.

'Do you want another coffee, Malfoy?' Potter waited with the pot in his hand.

'Please.' He needed something to stay awake after the night he'd had.

'How is it going in France?'

'Slowly but steadily. Last Sunday I met both Balzac and Thadeau Palindrône. I think they trust me, this far, at least.'

Potter nodded. 'Are you ever going to tell me how on earth you managed to get close to those two?'

'Ah, ah, ah. A spy never divulges his secrets. You know that, Potter!' He had learned that rule from the best, his late godfather Severus Snape.

'Thought as much.' He paused and stared at his coffee for a while. 'Malfoy,' he looked up at him,' Draco. I'm worried about you. Yes, I know, don't start, you're not a boy anymore. I know! But there is something going on, something you're not telling me. You're getting in too deep, Draco.'

_Harry was too bloody observant for his own good sometimes._

'How can a spy get in to deep, Harry? They trust me. The see my face and they see my father. Am I not the son of Lucius Malfoy, grandson of Abraxas Malfoy and nephew to Bellatrix Lestrange-Black?' Draco asked dramatically.

'What you are is a bloody idiot, Draco!' Potter stood up. 'you're also Draco Malfoy, who left their side in the war and who is now an upstanding citizen. Director of Malfoy Enterprises, a legit company, even,' Potter reminded him. 'And you're just human, even though you seem to think you're invincible.'

Draco sneered back at the irate Potter from across the desk. 'I do not think I am invincible,' he spat.

'Then stop acting like it! You're going to get yourself killed like this. I don't know what you're playing at and _how_ you got in, but I know you're playing with fire here.'

How he got in? He fucked his way in, right between the lovely thighs of the great-granddaughter of the ringleader, at least the French one, because he was still convinced there should be a British head of operations. There had been suspicions, about his current position in the English wizarding world, about his loyalties during the war. But he bullshitted them all away. An admirable Slytherin trademark and it was useful, too.

He had spun the story of choosing the continuance of the Malfoy line, which he knew was a point on Balzac's own agenda. The threat of the ludicrous mindset of Voldemort in his last days would have made that impossible.

Furthermore he had told them that, he, Draco Malfoy, chose to fight for the cause another day. And as far as he was concerned, the resurrection of the Death Eaters, told him that this day had come.

They had bought it, hook, line and sinker. Telling them about all the carefully placed, illegal activities ME was invested in, not only earning him money to pay for the fight, but also creating opportunities to do so. About his connections in the Ministry and with other influential people. About the possibilities he could arrange, to further the cause.

In other words, he had hung the bait in front of them, and they took it and now, he was in!

'I don't want you ending up like Severus, Draco.'

Potter's solemn statement brought him back and made him realise that Potter had a point. 'I know and I don't have the ambition to end up like that either.'

'Okay, now that we have dealt with the business side, Ron owled me with some interesting news this morning,' Harry quipped.

'Really, Potter, and tell me, what did your brother-in-law have to say?'

'That you kissed Hermione in the kitchen yesterday and afterwards proclaimed it was, and I quote "the best snog of your life"!'

'Ah, that.'

'Listen, Draco. I don't care about the who, what or why. Just know, I see Hermione as my sister and if you mess with her...'

'You mean like Weasley or Stone did?' He raised his eyebrow.

'Exactly like I did with Ron and Stone!' The cold words sent shivers down Draco's spine..

It was an hour and a pot of coffee later, when Potter declared he needed to take a leak. Of course, that triggered the same response in Draco's body. Ginny told him to use the upstairs bathroom, instead of waiting on Potter to finish downstairs. It was just up the stairs, to his right.

He hadn't expected to be treated to Granger in positively the tiniest nightgown he'd ever encountered. She walked out of what he gathered was the bathroom, and turned back into the hallway. Her hair was up in a ponytail. The back of her nightgown was made of a rather transparent fabric and it was light-pink in colour. The thin straps held it in place and it flowed just past her hips. Beneath that was ridiculous pair of tiny knickers, also made of a pink gauze-like fabric. He could clearly make out her bum-crack.

Suddenly, she froze. She was standing a mere meter away from were he stood, at the top of the stairs. Had she heard him? She kept standing there, like she was suspended in animation. Then. she turned around.

He quickly saw that the fabric of her nightgown was just as see-through at the front, as it had been at the back. His gaze followed from her magnificent tits, with large areolas and taught nipples, to her pinched waist and further down, where he could make out her mound, covered with dark curls. The fabric was tugged up ever so slightly, pushing her nether lips to either side of the seam. He suddenly realized that this was probably Ginny's, seeing as this sleepover wasn't planned. Who would have thought Mrs. Potter was so naughty? Both owning _and_ donning her best friend in this outfit. And who would've thought Miss Granger was such a delectable witch?

The next thing he heard was a shriek and the door to the bathroom being slammed. He could make out the clink of the lock. Nice. Real nice, because he really needed to use that loo.

'Granger, open the door. I need to use the loo!'

There was no response from Granger.

'Granger! I'm not kidding around. Open the door!'

Her voice sounded muffled from the other side of the door. 'Use the one downstairs. Besides, you can't just go to upstairs-bathrooms in people's houses, Malfoy!'

'I did not go up here uninvited, Granger. And Potter is using the downstairs loo. Now, get out of there!' His tolerance was waning.

A petulant _No!_ was screamed at him through the room. That was it! He had had enough. Stupid chit! He grabbed his wand and cast _Alohamora_ on the door. He knew she hadn't put up any wards. The door swung open, showcasing a, still sexily-clad, Hermione Granger, standing with her calves against the bathtub, arms wrapped around her. _Good girl_, Draco thought, _don't cover yourself, just hug your waist. _He liked the view just fine, with her breasts almost spilling over the top of the nightgown.

With a tone he knew so well from their school days, she demanded to know what he thought he was doing.

'Granger, don't be ridiculous. I told you over and over, I'm taking a leak.' He turned to face the toilet-bowl and started to open his trousers, to grab himself. 'But please, do stay. You're most welcome to watch. After all, that would only be fair, seeing as you're putting yourself on display in such a tantalizing manner.' Turning his head towards her, he smirked lasciviously at her as he took her in once again.

Hermione gulped and the blush that had been on her face, now spread to her entire body. _Gods,_ Draco thought,_ how can she make blushing look so enticing?_ He could hear the pounding of her feet, above the sound of himself pissing, as she ran out of the bathroom and, he expected, back to _her_ room. He really should press for his own guestroom with company like this!

* * *

Just as he walked into the kitchen, to see the Potters looking at his smile with puzzlement, Hermione's started to scream from upstairs.

'Ginevra Molly Potter-Weasley! You get you bloody behind up here!'

Draco smirked. Ginny blanched and Potter looked confused. Draco didn't even know Granger had it in her to swear.

'Malfoy!' Potter started. 'What have you done?'

Draco gave Potter a surprised look. 'What have I done? You should ask your lovely wife. Isn't it her Granger is shrieking for?'

Potter turned to Ginny, who threw up her hands. 'Ask him, he was just upstairs with her.'

Draco snorted, she didn't fool him. Once again, Potter turned to him.

'What happened?'

'Well, ' he drawled, 'I happened upon a rather scantly clad Granger. Lovely pink nightgown, though. Yours, no doubt, Mrs. Potter?'

Potter turned to his wife. 'You didn't. Ginny!'

'What! It's not as if she doesn't own the exact same nightgown.' She turned to Draco, 'of course in a bigger size. In fact, she's the one who introduced me to that kind of underwear. It's Muggle mainly. You should see her collection. It puts mine to shame.'

'Ginny!' Potter growled and reached to grab her.

'Coming!' Ginny called happily to Hermione, who was still cursing like a sailor.

Who would've thought, _Granger – _a closet seductress? Draco wondered if she had kept this _hobby _from her former lovers, since they all seemed to complain about the way she dressed as a granny.

* * *

She wasn't going down there. She was never, ever going down there ever again. Harry would just have to lift the anti-apparation wards! How could Ginny have done this to her? She sent him up on purpose.

Ginny said she could not have known that she would be walking out, or into, the bathroom at the precise minute he was there. Hermione had to agree with Ginny on that account. But, she still did this on purpose to her. She was supposed to be her best friend!

Ginny had thought this was all very funny. She reasoned that Draco, ugh _Malfoy_, had seen enough naked girls. Yes, well, yes, that was all fine, but he hadn't seen _her_ naked and Hermione had intended to keep it that way!

She took another deep breath and dried her hands on her skirt. _Okay, Hermione, calm down_, she thought to herself. On some level, Ginny was right, of course. Malfoy probably had seen enough naked girls, or half naked, to last him a lifetime. And, let's face it; it wasn't as if she was that special to look at. She knew that. She'd been told that enough times, through the years. And why would she even care about what people thought she looked like?

So, she would just have to swallow her self-pity and get over it! And she'd even go back downstairs. After he had left the house, of course.

When the hell would the annoying man go away! She'd been sitting there, on the top of the stairs, for a half an hour. She could hear Harry and _his_ voice; they were talking in the study at the front of the house. She shifted to let blood flow into her legs. Finally, she heard the door to the study creak open. Through the banister she saw them walking into the foyer and then Malfoy tapped his wand on his head, disappearing under a disillusionment charm and left through the front door. She sat there, stunned. Why had he done that?

She sprinted down the stairs as soon as the door fell in the lock, finding both Harry and Ginny in the sitting room. Harry stood up immediately, starting to apologize for what Ginny had done. She was no longer interested in Ginny and her childish ploys to match her and Malfoy up, she told them. There was something fishy going on and she knew it!

'Okay, spill, Harry. What is going on here?'

He looked at her sheepishly. 'What do you mean, 'Mione?'

'Don't you "'Mione" me, Harry. I know something strange is going on here. I mean, why on earth is Malfoy here all the time? And why isn't he _Malfoy_ anymore? Why is he _Draco_ all of a sudden? It's like he's your best friend! And now, on top of all that, I saw him disillusion himself before he left. Why would he do that, if he's here all the time, anyway! She stopped pacing around and stood in front of Harry. 'So, spill!'

'Follow me, Hermione. It's time you hear this, anyway.'

'Close the door behind you, Hermione,' he said.

The serious tone he spoke in sent shivers down her spine. His face was set the same. She'd been right then; there was something going on.

'Draco is the undercover agent, Hermione.'

She blinked. And she blinked again. Draco was the undercover agent. Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, master of Dark Arts, was an undercover agent! This had to be a joke. She looked incredulously at Harry who was still sitting behind his mahogany desk. Draco _bloody_ Malfoy was the one who was to be trusted above all and the one who was going to deliver the information to bring the Neo Death Eaters down! She started to laugh.

'No, no, no. Harry, you're kidding me, right? This is a joke. The boy – man - who tormented me, and you, I might add, for years and years. _He_ is our undercover agent?'

'Why would I joke about that, Hermione?' His voice was still so serious.

'But this can't be. He is a bigot, a racist and a former Death Eater! Besides, you didn't put any wards up and I could hear your voices.' She spun around and waved her hands around. 'When you came to my lab, you put up extensive wards. You never put any up, so you're kidding!' She was desperate now. Desperate for this to be some sick, cruel joke. But Harry was quiet, so, finally, she sat down.

'Are you quite finished? He snapped at her.

She startled. 'What do you mean, Harry?'

'Are you quite finished with your theatrics? Gods, Hermione, how old are we?' He ran his hands through his hair. 'Draco has worked hard to redeem himself. His life, his...his life story is his to tell, but I'm convinced. No, Hermione, I _know_ he is a good man, a loyal man, a _trustworthy _man.'

'But, Harry, he's _Draco Malfoy_!' she cried out.

'God dammit, Hermione!' he roared. 'Do you even realize that you're insulting me and my intelligence. I'm Head Auror and you seem to think I don't know what I'm doing. Who I can trust. And I'm telling you, I can trust Draco Malfoy. We have been investigating this movement since the end of the war. We knew that they would resurface and when they would, we would have to be ready. Draco and myself have been on countless missions together. We have faced horrors you wouldn't believe and through this all he has never shamed the trust I instilled in him. I trust him, Hermione, and I have done so for many, many years, with my life!'

Hermione sat there, shocked. Not only because of his outburst, but more so, because of what he had said to her. He had a right to be disappointed in her. She had openly doubted his competence. She looked back up at him, ashamed of herself.

'He saved your life?'

'Yes. More than once.'

'Oh.'

'He deserves your trust, 'Mione. And the house is completely warded, so...'

'Oh.' It was warded already, she hadn't known that. 'Okay. So...Malfoy?'

'Yes, get used to it. You'll be seeing a lot more of him, these coming weeks.'

She felt the blood disappear from her face at this last statement. Bugger!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The sound of Hermione's heels echoed against the cold stone of the Ministry dungeons. Thank goodness for Monday's, so she could hide away at work without getting comments about it. Even though she'd decided to trust Harry's instincts, that didn't mean that she liked it. He had warned her, that she should get used to seeing much more of Draco Malfoy. Just what she needed!

She turned another corner. Once she'd gotten home, she'd realized, she hadn't asked Harry what he meant by that precisely, that she would see much more of Malfoy. She'd been too astonished by his outburst.

Never mind, she'd need all the time she could squeeze out of a day to work on solving the potion mystery anyway. That would make bumping into Malfoy hardly probable.

At night, her ears still ringing from Harry's scolding, she had looked at the notes she had made thus far. According to Harry, who deducted this from Malfoy's intelligence, the Neo Death Eaters were on the move. Until this moment, they were encountering little resistance. This could result in two scenarios. The first: they would get cocky and reckless and make mistakes. The second, the more likely one: they would gain confidence and would start to lash out more frequently and more in publicly. Therefore, Harry had urged her, to work as fast as she could. He'd already cleared it with her department head, that she would have no other tasks until she was finished.

So, here she was; taking the wards down to her entrance door an hour earlier then normal. The previous Friday she'd finished preparing the identification base. It had taken her three days, but she was now confident it would do the trick. She simultaneously cast her bag into the corner of her office and lifted the stasis charm off of the cauldron.

Two hours into the brewing process, Hermione had only used a small part of the original potion, but as of yet, she hadn't determined any ingredient. This was getting frustrating.

The worst thing was that she just couldn't understand why it wasn't working. She sighed and sat down on the stool, to stand up quickly merely seconds later. Why? Why didn't it work? She mentally walked through her research notes again. The identification potion hadn't taken her much research. It was an ancient potion, invented by Nicolas Flamel and it had been perfected by her old Potions professor, Severus Snape. Brewing the potion had been gruelling, acquiring the ingredients near impossible and to top it of - because of the constant need for adding ingredients - she'd slept in a transfigured chair in the corner of her office for two nights. She knew it was brewed to perfection. She had checked it at every stage, and rechecked. The end result met with all the specifications. _Arghh!_ Hermione stopped pacing, reduced the flame underneath the testing cauldron and went back to her research notes.

The second week of testing had arrived and on Friday Hermione was seething. 'How it's going? Harry, it's going nowhere at the moment. I'm in desperate need of an assistant. Better yet, a sparring partner. I've been trying to figure out what the problem is for almost a week and a half now. And since you took away my other tasks to have me only work on this project, I'm eating, drinking, sleeping and bloody well living it! And I need help!

But what do you know? Yesterday, when I finally seemed to have convinced Master Vane that - even though the funding is low, I really need an assistant - he tells me it has been vetoed by no other than Harry bleeding Potter. So, you tell me, how do you think it is going?' Finally, she stopped right in front of the desk of Head Auror Potter.

Maybe, barging into his office like this, wasn't the best course of action. But she had had it! The ridiculous amount of hours she had worked these last weeks was getting to her.

On the first Monday, she had started, full of confidence. She was sure, with the help of the potion perfected by Professor Snape, she would be able to succeed. But she hadn't. Until now, she had not identified even one measly ingredient. So, she'd concluded, there were two options. One: the identification base was faulty. Two: her work method was faulty.

In the end she had, simultaneously, started to re-brew the base, analyse her method of work and kept testing, in the hopes of having a break-through. But she was only one person, with just one set of hands and one head. She couldn't do it all. She sank in one of the chairs in front of Harry's desk.

'So, are you all done now?' Harry enquired.

'You know, I really don't like your new _severe _and _serious _Harry act.'

'Get used to it; you'll see much more of it if you keep acting like this.'

'Like this? What is that supposed to mean? Can't you see I'm frustrated beyond belief!' she cried out.

'It is hard to miss. And apparently it is also reeking havoc on your intellect, because has it even occurred to you that I might have a good reason for vetoing your request?'

'No!' she stated, giving him a petulant look.

Harry sighed, slid his hands trough his hair and then gave her a disappointed look back.

_ Gods,_ she thought, _the world was up side down. Harry giving her _that _look._

'We can not risk bringing anymore people into this investigation, Hermione and that is why I vetoed your request.'

_Bugger. _'Oh.' She quietly looked at him. 'I should have thought about that.'

'You should have. And that makes it all the more clear that you do need assistance, Hermione, because it is not like you to go around half-bonkers like this.'

She nodded and looked at her hands, unshed tears swimming in front of her eyes. _Double bugger!_ _She really needed to get some sleep._

Harry had promised her he would figure something out. So she could have someone to talk to, discuss the dilemma with and even get some sleep. That sounded nice. Sleep. Particularly in her own bed, instead of in a transfigured chair.

She had slept quite soundly that night. Thankfully the second base, which met with all the criteria – again – was finished and she'd celebrated this with take-out from the Indian, a sweltering hot bath with her favourite bath oil and a long and comfortable rest in her bed.

Now, she felt refreshed and positive. Today would be a good day. No, a _great_ day. She was sure of it! Even though she was a bit late.

* * *

The hard, inflexible stool did nothing for Draco's behind. And he couldn't move, or she would have a fit. He didn't want a fit. Well, at least not yet. A fit, in some sorts, would be unavoidable. He just hoped she wouldn't scream. It was Monday and he was still trying to wake up.

He cautiously checked his wristwatch, without disturbing the invisibility cloak that Potter had lent him for this stakeout, around him. She was late! Potter had assured him that she would be there at seven. Probably even earlier. But it was half seven already and as of yet, no Hermione Granger.

Speak of the Devil. There she was. She raced into the laboratory; her hair a twisted mess on her head. Would she ever learn to tame it? Well, that wasn't fair, he had to admit. She'd looked very elegant at both of the Potter parties.

As he saw her strutting around her workplace, her hair flying around her, he almost snickered. She looked like a mad scientist. Which, in fact, she was. So maybe those unruly curls suited her. Ah, she was fed up with the bushel, apparently. With a few flicks of her wand, her hair braided itself and was pinned to her head.

She paced around the lab, clearly agitated. Suddenly she stopped walking and stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and she started to speak.

'So. Today is a new day! Today is a successful day. And how do I know that, you ask. Because I'm bloody well not going to be beaten by some low-life, retarded, inbred, pure-blood charlatan who somewhat dabbles with potions and by complete and utter accident has stumbled on this...this...poison. I'm Hermione Granger, I am a witch extraordinaire, the _Brightest Witch of her - _well my - _age. _ And dammit, I am a brilliant Potions Mistress. I can do this!'

Draco could hardly keep himself from bursting into laughter after this pep-talk. She was brilliant all right: brilliantly mental! Halfway through her speech at her self, she'd started pacing, waving her arms around. At one point, it looked like she was talking to a cauldron.

Now she sank onto one of the stools and with closed eyes, cradled her head. Shit, was she crying? Should he go to her, comfort her? He made to stand up, when she jumped up again and, now muttering mutedly, began to set up her workstation. Suddenly, her face snapped up and looked in his direction, as if she could see him, but she made no further move and continued. He exhaled slowly.

Draco sat there for another hour and a half. His behind was now so bereft of blood, he swore it would fall of due to gangrene. He had observed her attentively. The last time he had seen Granger work on potions, they had been in Hogwarts. And, in all honesty, he hadn't paid her that much attention.

She worked meticulously. He recognized many mannerisms she had emulated from his late godfather. Somehow this comforted him. It made looking at her hands something familiar.

As far as he could determine, she was working with two different bases, and three different testing methods. It seemed rather labour intensive.

As of yet he hadn't really been able to determine flaws in her modus operandi. She would have to talk him through what she was doing, in order for him to be of assistance.

He shifted his weight around. Her eyes shot up again to where he sat and drew her brows together. He couldn't let her catch him spying on her. He knew enough of her, to want to stay clear of her _personal explosions. _

When Hermione resumed her work, he had to wait for her to turn her back to him. He let his mind wander back to the previous days. Monday morning he had come back from France. He had been exhausted. Delphine was a better workout than any Quidditch training imaginable. To make up for his absence two weeks prior, he had arranged a Portkey for Friday evening. He surprised her, having drinks with her girlfriends. Yes, that little plan had come together quite nicely. He was instantaneously forgiven for his _heartless abandonment. _ They ate at a little bistro along the river _Seine. _Afterwards he took her to a Jazz café and they ended up in her apartment around one in the morning and he had fucked her against the wall in the foyer. On the settee in front of the opened windows, the night breeze cooling their bodies, she had ridden him like an Amazon. The kitchen table proved its robust appearance as he had her, her belly on the teak wood, legs opened wide. When they finally reached the bed, they were too knackered to do anything other than sleep, sated and sticky.

Saturday found them at _Le Vignoble,_ were he, once again, met up with her the Palindrône men. But being at the ancestral home of Delphine was easy. It was known territory. Because, if he was completely honest, this was the world he knew best. The rules, the expectations, the rituals. Even though his parents had changed their ways and their beliefs, the Malfoys still lived in the isolated world of pure-blood society.

So, he had to remind himself of who these people were and what they were capable of. He looked around the circle of men and their faces reminded him of all the horrors he had seen, inflicted by the hands of Death Eaters. He heard all the hate, the prejudice, the utter nonsense he had been pumped full of since he could walk. He couldn't forget that these weren't _normal, pleasant_ people. They were murderers. Cold blooded elitists, whose mission it was to rid the world of Mudbloods, or whatever they called them in France.

They were his target. They were the reason he was an undercover agent. And he would stay one, until the very last of those mindless idiots had been wiped off the face of the earth. Or served their time in Azkaban. Then, and only then, he could rest.

He had seen the _light _at the tender age of sixteen. After he had been pressured into killing Dumbledore, after his godfather had rescued his soul. At that moment he saw Voldemort, and his followers, for what they were. Cowards. Scared little people. Ignorants. He did not want to fall in either of those categories. So he turned to Harry Potter. He had begged and pleaded on his knees, to save his mother. They did. And then he joined them. Undercover, at first, he helped execute Snape's and Dumbledore's plan like a pro.

After that he recruited some of the students in his year. Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, who didn't live to see the end of the war, and Zaria Baltene and some younger students as well.

In the final battle, when he was once again reunited with his mother, he gave her a choice. She chose well.

His father had perished some weeks prior. After the dust had settled his mother had been sentenced to house arrest, thanks to her saving Potter's life. After this period, he had actively pushed her towards her sister, Andromeda, and asked the eldest of the two remaining Black sisters to introduce his mother to the Muggle world. She would have to be rid of the indoctrination her late husband had poured over her since she had been in her early twenties.

Poor Narcissa, she had been yanked out of her comfort zone. It was a very confusing time for her. Certainties and beliefs she lived by, suddenly appeared to be nothing but lies and not the truth.

But removed from his fathers influence, his mother, turned out to be able to adapt fairly quickly. After their trips and excursions into the Muggle word, she would tell him everything: what they had seen, heard, done and eaten. It opened her eyes. She had been astounded at what she found outside of the small circle. It was a wonderful adventure. And adventure that showed her, unequivocally, that, yes, they were magical by blood, but that did not mean they were better than, for instance, Muggle-born witches and wizards.

_These_ people had learned nothing. Nothing at all. And they sat there, with their wealth and traditions and ridiculous ideas about a perfect world, without Muggle-borns.

He had been given more and more insight into the organization of these Neo Death Eaters. It seemed they were mostly from mainland Europe. He had not seen or spoken, or heard, for that matter, about any British participants. But he expected to find some of them at the top of the hierarchy. They knew too much not to be linked to English residents, one way or the other.

Delphine was waving at him from across the patio. She was sitting there, in her designer robes, all pretty, chatting happily with her female relativves. Swapping fashion and beauty tips, whilst over here, the death of millions was plotted.

The fact that he was the director of ME was a bonus in the eyes of her family, he could tell. He saw the scheming that went on behind the eyelashes of the gentlemen present. He had an extensive distribution network, the means to finance operations and the cunning to pull it off. Now it was his job to find out how he could use this, to thwart them at any, and all, steps, until Granger had broken the potion code and an antidote could be devised.

He looked over to that same Granger who was furiously working in a testing environment that, ideally, needed three people but she was now doing on her own. Potter had been right to call him; this was growing over her head. Finally she turned around, her back towards him.

He stood up, stretched his aching legs and walked over to the door that would give him access to the corridor. Hermione was still standing in the same way, so if he moved swiftly and quietly, he should be able to fly under her radar. When his left leg kept on sleeping while the rest of his body wanted to move forward, he knew this wouldn't end well and he'd probably get yelled at for a considerable length of time. He tipped over, right into a storage unit. From the corner of his eye he saw Hermione react instinctively to the noise behind her. Her wand found him and she cast her _Stupefy_ square in the chest.

The next thing his mind registered was Hermione Granger slipping Potter's invisibility cloak off of his body. Looking thoroughly pissed off, she cast a _Finite Incantatum_

O_ffence was the best defence_, Draco thought. He plastered his most beguiling smile on his face, pushed his hand up for a friendly shake and spoke; 'Hi, Granger, meet you're new sparring partner!'


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The silence in the dungeon laboratory was ringing in his ears. He hadn't expected this reaction. He would've thought she'd scream and lecture, like he was used to from her. But apparently, something had changed since the last time he saw her have a _personal explosion_ during an Order meeting, just before the final battle. This Hermione just went to sit down on one of the stools after uttering a meek _Oh_.

'Well, I'm glad to see you take the news of our collaboration so gracefully,' he smirked.

'I'm not taking this news _gracefully_, _Malfoy._ I'm concentrating on counting.'

He looked at her, surprised. 'Counting?'

'To keep me from killing you. Or Harry, for that matter.' She stood up, muttering to herself. 'That sneaky, little, miserable...how could he do this to me? I ask for an assistant and he gets me the bleeding, bouncing ferret!'

Her eyes rested on him again.

'And you! You come here, break my wards. How did you break my wards? Did Harry tell you how to do it? They're up for _a reason_!And you, what, spy on me?'

She walked away again, still muttering. She really had the nutty professor down to a tee.

'How long were you there? And is that Harry's cloak?'

He tried to reply, but she just kept on going. Finally he just sat down again, his behind once again having blood circulating through it. She muttered having feeling again after his stretch, and watched her ranting and muttering to herself, pacing in front of him. He caught wisps of it. It was mainly about Potter, his new act of _severe and serious – _so she'd noticed that - the fact that she did really need assistance and that he, as the undercover agent, was already _in_ on the plan. Granger really was entertaining.

When she finally got to the point of him, more specifically, the point of him being of any use, it was time to _try_ to get a word in.

'Granger, you do remember I was second behind you in N.E.W.T.s, right? And you do remember Severus being my godfather?'

'Yes, well... Yes, he was. And that was probably partly the reason that you were second in Potions,' she snubbed at him.

'Partly? What other part is there in your magnificent mind, oh brilliant Potions Mistress?'

She blanched for a moment, obviously realising how long he had actually been in her lab.

'Well, the other part, of course, you being a Slytherin.'

'Are you accusing the late Severus Snape of being biased towards his own house?'

He saw her square her shoulders and tip her head back. 'Yes I am! How else would you explain the likes of Goyle and Parkinson to pass his classes at all? And you! You got away with murder in his class.'

'So you kept an eye on us Slytherins?'

'I did!'

'And an eye on me?'

'Of course, you were their ringleader!'

'Ah. And, do tell me Granger, in all the time you observed me in class, how many times did you see me cheat? Hmm?'

After a second her eyes went wide.

He continued. 'And how many times did you see me asking for help, or even getting help? How many times did you see me, in the library, studying, like you did? Tell me, Granger, because I would love to know your point of view on that!'

After she opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, he told her to keep her mouth shut if nothing was coming out, so the flies wouldn't come in. She closed her lips rigidly after that comment.

'So, I think it is safe to conclude I got my O.W.L.s and my N.E.W.T.s on my own merit, Granger. And although I do not pretend to be anywhere near as knowledgeable about potions as you are – and yes, I grant you, you probably are brilliant at your work – I can help you! And seeing as we're working for the same cause, I would suggest you get over your petty prejudices and behave like a professional adult!'

* * *

From the corner of her eye, Hermione could keep track of what Malfoy was doing. And at the moment, he was reading. She had, reluctantly, given him all of her work notes. The pile of parchments was just about high enough to block him from her view, but not quite.

She hated him. And she hated the fact that he was right. She never did see him cheat, or copy and he was – in fact – in the library just as often as she had been, especially in their final year, after the war.

So why was she so upset, anyway? Except for the fact that he broke into her lab and spied on her. And, let's not forget that he saw her half naked, which technically wasn't his fault, but that didn't change anything. Why? Why after five years did he have to resurface in her life? And then, of course, there were the years of him not only taunting her, but being a dangerous git. She huffed and grabbed the next vial.

She knew that he, and his mother, had changed sides. She knew she should be more forgiving towards him, let the past be the past, but she just couldn't. She couldn't just forget and trust blindly. And now he turned out to be an undercover agent, since graduation, according to Harry. Harry, who stated that he trusted _him_ with his life. She looked over to the blond and gasped at the implication of that last thought.

Harry put Malfoy in the same category as Ron, and herself! She knew Malfoy had come to Harry when he wanted to fight for their side. And that they worked together a lot. She had stayed clear of the baby Death Eater. Besides, she mainly worked in Headquarters, researching and planning.

She thought back at the times they had fought, together, against Death Eaters. She recalled the battle of Diagon Ally. In her mind, he was just a blur of blond in grey robes. His movements, both with his arm and the rest of his body, were so quick, so fluent; it was like looking at water, with the destruction force of a flash flood. He blasted opponents away with sheer force.

The last time they had met on the battlefield, was the day of the Final Battle. Flanked by Order members and later, briefly, by Professor Snape, he was brilliant again. He used spells and hexes she had never heard of before. He omitted using Unforgivables when there were no other options left. She'd seen.

She sighed and stared at the wall.

After the final battle, she'd occasionally seen him here and there. During the trials. At Ministry functions and other celebratory parties. In the newspapers, after taking over from his father, who had fallen even before the Final Battle.

But then there was the split up with Ron and it had signalled in her retreat from _society_, from reading the newspapers from cover to cover, from seeing him.

And now he was back, sitting there, in her lab! Telling her they were going to work together and to man up! She took a deep breath.

'Before you exhale, Granger, please keep in mind that I know you can breathe. You don't have to prove this to me every two minutes or so!'

_ What was he on about?_ She looked at him with an eyebrow raised up to her hairline.

'You sigh. Very loudly. Stop doing that, I'm trying to concentrate on your research.'

_Oh, so she was sighing. It was his fault she was this confused, so why shouldn't he suffer with her? _She looked at the wall again. _Bloody git!_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hermione had to admit (although she'd really rather not) that Draco was...sufficient, as an assistant. If his only use would've been that she could use him as a sounding board and thus organizing her thoughts, she would have been happy. But he did more; he had meticulously read her notes and made some observations. They discussed his comments, like professional adults, and she made the adjustments that were needed.

But, of course, it couldn't last for ever and before long, he was as annoying as ever. It took them four days to get to the point where she could start brewing the identification base, for the third time. She had told him that she certainly did not need help with the brewing, _thank you very much!_

'Granger, don't be ridiculous, I know more about the way Severus worked than you do!'

Gods, he irked her to no end! The fact that he called professor Snape by his first name and his arrogance at assuming he knew more about _him_ than she did. She had been studying him ever since she started her apprenticeship with Master Vane. And even now, being a Potions Mistress herself, she looked to his work for guidance. And _he_ would tell _her_ about Snape's work method?

Finally Friday arrived, but he wouldn't let up.

Draco grunted, 'Granger, I'm telling you, you need to tilt your knife more when cutting the roots!'

She closed her eyes and concentrated on maintaining her steady breath. These past days he had commented on every slice of her knife, stir of the rod and pressing with her pestle. She had had enough! 'Get. Out. Now!' she screeched. 'Out! Out! _Out!_' She pointed her finger towards the door.

But he just stood there, _smiling_ at her. She wanted her lab back, her silence and freedom. Not have him hanging over her shoulders, brushing his absurdly long fringe across her cheeks, enclosing her hand with his to show her how to stir and talking to her in that..._voice_!

'Make me, Granger. Otherwise, get used to me and my thoughts on _Severus._

That miserable, miserable...urgh! He did it on purpose. Calling him _Severus, _ like that! And now, he was challenging her to get him to leave _her lab_!

_Smack!_

Hermione really did not know who was more surprised, she or Malfoy. But his surprise didn't last long. He shook his head to readjust his hair and looked straight at her. The look in his eyes made her shiver. They resembled cold steel. Shit, what had she done? How could she forget who he was, _what_ he was? Unconsciously she took a step back, but he followed. She took another step but his steps were bigger. She felt her workbench pressing slightly at her back. She had nowhere else to go to.

'You said I had to make you leave!' Her voice was squeaky.

Her heart was racing by now. He was standing so near to her she could see the darker flecks in his eyes, the dark lashes surrounding them, his porcelain skin and his mouth. Gods, she never noticed his mouth before. _Liar_, her conscience screamed. There had been weeks when all she could think about was his mouth. All those feelings she had at the tender age of twelve came rushing back to her, magnified tenfold. Her face flushed and her dry mouth was suddenly salivating. With the tip of her tongue she traced her lips, left them parted and started gulping shallow breaths of air.

He took another step and she was now pressed between the bench and his body. A crease formed between her closed eyes. She was getting aroused by his heat, his scent, the pressure of his body. _Please don't let him notice!_

At the sound of his voice, her eyes shot open.

'Never ever hit me again, Hermione,' he said with an icy tone. 'There are just a few situations in which I allow a woman to strike me,' he smirked lasciviously at her, 'do you think you can handle them?'

She couldn't talk, not even hum or nod her head. Nothing. She just stood there, feeling him. His lips against her ear, his chest pressing against her breasts, his hands on her hips. His voice, so deep and fluid, had put her in a coma, she decided. He must be using some kind of magic on her! This had to stop before she would make an even bigger fool of herself; so she pushed at his chest with both hands.

As if it was no effort at all, he grabbed her wrists and brought them to his face. She saw him place his lips on the thin skin of her left wrist and followed to the other one. The kisses were very chaste, but they made her blood boil all the same and all she could think about was those lips on hers. As suddenly as he had grabbed her, he let go.

'I will see you on Monday.' His sounded so cool.

And with that statement, he left her, alone, like she had wanted.

* * *

The following Monday Hermione was fidgeting with her hair, while she waited for Draco's arrival at the lab. She'd gotten there half an hour earlier than was even normal for her, just to make sure she had some time to get herself together. After Draco's stunt on Friday, she had left not long after he did. Once her breathing became normal again, that was.

All weekend long the incident had occupied her mind. She had been distracted, ruining her dinner on Saturday and she'd used the memories of his voice and lips at her ear to get herself off on Sunday morning.

Although, the ministrations her fingers were executing on her labia and clit resulted in an earth-shattering orgasm, she realised, as soon as she came down from it, that she would be even more haunted by Draco Malfoy now. _Bugger!_

The clock at the back of her office showed it was now seven in the morning; the usual time she would arrive at her dungeon workplace and the time she would find _him_ leaning against the door frame.

The clock at the back of her office showed it was now ten past seven in the morning; the usual time she would arrive at her dungeon workplace and the time she would find _him _leaning against the doorframe.

The clock showed ten past seven en there still was no sign of Malfoy. She went to look outside the entrance door, wondering if perhaps he was standing there, waiting for her to show up. But he wasn't.

At a quarter to eight, she was fed up and decided to start working without him. See if she cared! Every 5 minutes, she checked the clock, again and again. All sorts of scenarios raced through her mind by the time the clock's dials told her it was now nine o'clock. He could have overslept. Maybe he was sick. Perhaps he did not want to work with her anymore after what had happened on Friday – even though she still thought she was not to blame. Well, at least not the only one. Of course he could also have had an accident. Or – shit - what if he had been found out and his role as spy been compromised? By the time it was ten a.m., she was so worked up that she almost forgot to add the crushed loganberries.

The little house-elf that appeared at her side at eleven gave her such a scare that she almost dropped the base she was carrying to the cooling table.

'Scritty is so sorry, Miss. Bad house-elf, bad, bad-'

Once the title creature started to punish itself by knocking its head against a stool, Hermione reacted and ordered the elf to stop what he was doing and demanded him to tell her why he had come to her.

'I has a message for Miss from Master, I has!' he proudly proclaimed.

'Which is?'

'Ah, yes!' he cleared his throat,' He is otherwise detained.'

She was an idiot. Really, she was. He had her worrying almost the entire morning, nearly ruining her potion...

'I gather, your Master is Draco Malfoy?'

'He is, Miss, he is!' The elf started jumping up and down, clearly ecstatic at the mentioning of his Master's name. Delusional creatures, those house-elves!

* * *

Tuesday followed almost the same exact path as Monday. At eleven Scritty popped up next to her, giving her the message that _His Master was otherwise detained_. Some assistant he was!

Hermione was fuming! 'Who does he think he is?' she asked the walls.

Hermione had been pacing around Ginny's – and Harry's – living room for the past hour, without explaining what was wrong. It was Tuesday night, nowhere near a regular date at the Potters, but she needed to vent. As soon as she was able to put her feelings into words.

'That smarmy bastard is just infuriating! I mean, he is supposed to _help, _for God's sake!'

Ginny looked up to her from her seat on the settee but said nothing.

Hermione continued. 'And he is all over me, all of the time. It's nice to have a sounding board and someone intelligent to talk to-'

'So, he is intelligent then?'

'Yes! Yes, of course he is, he was second after me in potions, you know.' She waved Ginny's remark away. 'Anyway, he can't just kiss me, tell me he'll see me on Monday-'

'He gave you a first kiss in the lab?' Ginny scooted to the edge of the settee.

Hermione gave her a disturbed look. 'No, that was at your party. Besides he only kissed my wrists, not my mouth, but I-'

'Sit. Down!' Ginny told her pointedly. You're making me dizzy.

Hermione stopped walking, looked at Ginny and proceeded to sink into on of the chairs.

'So, if I understand you correctly, Draco kissed you?'

Hermione nodded.

'He hangs around you, too close, around the lab whilst stimulating your overly large brain?'

Hermione nodded again. 'And this is not helping _why_?

Hermione sighed and let her head hang. 'Because he hasn't come in to work all week! Instead he sends an elf to tell me "_he is otherwise detained." _He is supposed to help me.'

They stared at each other.

'Bollocks! This is not about him not showing up. Well, not just about that. He's getting to you, Hermione!'

Hermione was holding her head in her hands by the time Ginny had finished with her diagnoses.

'No I'm not!' she grunted. 'He's _Malfoy, _Ginny! He's a womaniser and snotty and cold-hearted- '

'Hmm. Sounds a bit like what Luna said, maybe you should take some time to think about that,' Ginny giggled.

* * *

On Wednesday morning she was fuming. After previous night's discussion with Ginny, she had had slept terribly. Add the strain of brewing the third batch of identification base and she was slowly draining her magic more than she would have thought and of course _Master Malfoy_, would not show again today. Just when – she loathed to admit is – could have used him. Today – and tonight - she would have to brew almost non-stop. It would have been nice to have help, even his.

The aroma of strong, hot coffee assaulted her nostrils the minute she opened the door. On her bench stood a large cup of White Chocolate Moccachino with whipped cream. Next to it were two croissants. Against the cup there was a folded card with a monogram letter _M_ pressed into the paper.

He had left her this! He had broken in – again – and left her coffee and croissants and even a card! She opened it and saw that the words he had written were sparkling. She startled when she heard his voice and then realized this was a _Dicto-card;_ a novelty item, and very expensive. It was basically just like a Howler, it read out the message that was written inside. But instead of a Howler; it didn't howl, it could pass any kind of message, in any tone of voice. And it could be played again and again, by just closing and opening the card.

'Granger,

I want to apologize for my absence the past few days. This was not what I had in mind after Friday.

But some things just can't be helped.

I know you will do well, even without my guidance. Do remember to cut the lacewings at a forty degree angle and not forty- five!

Enjoy the food I left you.

I will return.

Draco.'

_The tone of Draco's voice had been like velvet_, she thought to herself, setting the card down, after the third time she listened to his message. And he apologized. All her anger melted away in an instant. And, to top it off, he had gotten her croissants and coffee, her favourite coffee. _How did he know that?_

Sipping, she thought about his instructions, regarding the lacewings. Maybe she should give it a try. He had been right all the other times.

But what did he mean by _this was not what I had in mind after Friday? _It implied he had something in mind! Something could be anything, really. Did he have in mind fighting with her? Making her pay for striking him? Or was he going to go all _cave man_ on her again and pin her to her bench? That last thought sent shivers down her spine.

She had been glad he had left her, that Friday. Things had gone way too far, anyway!

_ Liar! _Her conscience screamed at her, again.

Hermione worked hard; sweat gathering at her hairline and eyebrows, stirring, chopping and adding. She set time alerts, so she wouldn't miss any of the crucial stages. She monitored the base like a hawk, noting the different stages and the effect the adjustments seem to have on it. The base seemed to coagulate faster, which was good. The colour change happened more abruptly. The smell was different, as well; less repugnant in this stage of brewing. This would turn out to be a completely different base, compared to the previous two. She fervently hoped that even with changes so small, the outcome would be very different. _Please, let this potion work!_

* * *

Draco stretched his legs along the dungeon floor; he had another fifteen minutes before the next alarm would go off in his ear, so Hermione wouldn't wake up. He tipped his head back against the cold dungeon wall and closed his eyes. These past few days had been trying, to say the least. On Sunday afternoon, he and Delphine had joined the rest of her family at their country estate. Her great-grandfather had requested him to step into his office around two and there he had been introduced into the Neo Death Eaters. He was already acquainted with most of the men of the group. They were male relatives of Delphine's or friends that frequented the estate a lot. After the introduction and his official appointment, they had left him alone with Balzac.

They had sat there for a long time, without a word being spoken. Draco knew this was just the beginning of the testing he would have to endure. His intentions would be questioned and not just the ones he had for Delphine.

At long last a sigh escaped between the grey moustache and beard and the patriarch began to speak.

'You have been dating my granddaughter for some weeks now, have you not?'

'I have, sir.' He confirmed.

'And I gather your intentions are...?'

'They are what a pure-blood witch like Delphine deserves, I assure you.' In his head he smirked at his sly remark. _When you want to tell a believable lie, tell the truth!_

'That pleases me and you're right, Delphine is a fine example of a witch. She has a promising future in our family affairs. Tell me, what do you know about our family, _Monsieur_?'

Draco crossed his legs and relaxed his arms on the chairs rests. 'I know that the Palindrône family is one of the oldest, wealthiest, most influential...and darkest wizarding families in Europe.' This statement should open the door for further discussion.

Palindrône looked smugly back at him. 'Quite right you are. We are all that. But we're also more, much more.' He stood up and walked over to a wall tapestry depicting a battlefield. 'Did you know that your great-grandfather and myself fought for Grindelwald? I believe that even you grandfather was there. Just a pup then.'

Draco stood up and joined the grey man to examine the needlework. 'As heir to the Malfoy heritage I am well educated in all things...important.' In hesitating to finish his sentence he hoped to emphasize his last word. And it worked like a charm!

'And, pray tell, what is it that you consider...important, _Monsieur_ Malfoy?'

'Honour and family, power, traditions.'

'Ah, and in that precise order, too?'

Draco sneered. 'No! For me family comes first! Without family, we're nothing. The line, the name, it has to be preserved and everything has to be done to ensure it will live on.'

'Very astute assessment for one so young as yourself, but I must say, I do agree. Although, you seem to dismiss honour and loyalty very easily, _non?_ Is it not honour that makes a family name worth protecting!'

Shit! He knew this was going to come up. He had justified his actions during the war for countless times, to make sure that the one time it mattered most, his answer would be spot on and believable!

'you're right, of course. But without a family, what use is it to defend the name honourably? Is it not the task of the patriarch to ensure that the whole family is safe from harm…from lunacy?'

'I can understand that after your father's untimely demise, your main concern was -'

'The safety _and_ the assurance of a future for my family!' Draco finished the sentence.

'Ah, yes. Live to fight another day, I believe your saying goes. And how do you view the future of the Malfoys, now that this has been ascertained?'

Draco laughed darkly. 'Now is the time to reacquaint one-self with other...important and pressing issues.'

After this statement Balzac had joined him in dark laughter, looking rather satisfied with the way the conversation had went. Draco was relieved that the talk had gone so well. He was not fooled, though. This was just a first step. He had gotten a change to prove himself. To prove he was worthy of Delphine, which almost made him laugh even louder, and also that he was to be trusted and valued as a member of the Neo Death Eaters. But, for now, he was in!

But Delphine was becoming a nuisance. He'd almost go as far as to call it a problem because of her being so extremely clingy. He hadn't anticipated on her getting so emotionally involved. Her reputation was one of promiscuity and casual affairs. But it seemed that even the wealthy French debutante was not impervious to the opportunities of landing a Malfoy. He would have to start toning down on the frequency of his trips to France.

Luckily, Balzac saw potential in the newest member of the Neo Death Eaters. He had been relieved to find out that there would be no hideous mark to blemish his skin, like the former deranged Dark Lord had demanded. This organisation had implemented a style more becoming of a multinational organisation. No marks, no hexes, no torture. He gave them all the same deal: a Mudblood-free world and the wealth. According to Balzac, money was a much stronger motivator than pain and fear would ever be.  
His assignment for the coming months would be to devise a way to use Malfoy Enterprises for both money laundering and hostile take-overs. But it was his distribution network that was to be utilized most of all. This meant simultaneously creating _and_ thwarting efforts. He was sure he would have a split personality by the time this mission would end.

He added the lacewings she had cut. He had checked the angle and was surprised to find she had followed his advice, without an hour long debate. He smirked; he hadn't been present for her to be bale to debate with him. But it pleased him that she went along with his advice nevertheless.

Draco knew he was treading on dangerous grounds with Granger. First he had thought it a nice game, a diversion, to taunt Granger. She blushed so prettily and to rile her was just plain fun.

But this, what he had done last Friday, it was getting to close to real involvement. The kiss in Potter's kitchen had surprised her and then angered her. Or maybe she just fled because of the embarrassment. Either way, he had not seen her reaction. But Friday he had seen the fear turn to desire in her eyes. He had seen her pupils dilate and her breathing had increased; gotten shallow, heaving her chest deliciously... and _her mouth_. That was when he almost made a crucial mistake. It was her mouth that tempted him, teased him. She had licked her lips with the tip of her tongue, wetting them, making them shine. To top it off, she parted them, those succulent, slightly red lips of hers. He had wanted to kiss them. Suck on them, even nibble, like he had seen her do countless times.

Instead he had kissed her wrists, because he knew, without a doubt that if kissed her, really kissed her, he would have a huge problem on his hands

So, it would be _hands off_ as far as Granger was concerned.

In the corner of his eye, he saw her stir in the cot she had transfigured from the wing-backed chair that stood in the corner of her office. She had been sleeping restlessly for the past hour, tossing and turning. Now she started to mumble in her sleep. Unfortunately, it wasn't coherent. He would love to know what she was dreaming about. Maybe it was about him?

And there he went again, thinking about her! What was it that beguiled him so about Miss Hermione Granger? She was by far not the prettiest witch he knew. The most intelligent, he could not deny her that title. And she was fierce. Gods, she certainly was that. All the times she had stood up to him...she even smacked him, twice!

Thinking about it; it probably was the strange combination that made her..._her_. She was a mix of an innocent, modest and insecure girl and a sultry and sexy seductress.

And even though he knew he shouldn't, he wanted to discover that whole other persona she kept locked away from the world. That wish was is what made him use his most seductive voice when he dictated the message he sent her with the Dicto-card. And he wished that the dream that got her so agitated was because of his doing.

He had not seen the card when he got to the labs around one in the morning. Maybe she had put it away. He quickly dismissed the concept that she might have thrown it away.

Genius invention, those Dicto-cards. Nobody could resist one. Thank the Gods he had recognized the brilliance of that particular product, because ME's investment in it was making millions.

He returned to his cushions next to the makeshift cot and closed his eyes. The next alarm would leave him half an hour of rest.

It wasn't the sound of beeping in his ear that woke him up, but the moaning of a woman. To be precise, Granger, who had somehow managed to kick of her blanket. He swallowed. Obviously, she had transfigured her robes to conjure up the blanket. And apparently she hadn't been wearing anything under else under her robes she could transfigure into a blanket, because she he saw her body covered in just the most tantalizing set of underwear he had ever seen. Most witches he knew, at least the pure-blood ones, chose to have robes with fitted corsets and added a pair of briefs to finish the outfit. Others wore robes like an overcoat, with Muggle clothing underneath.

Of course, he knew about Muggle underwear, bras and knickers and so on. These days they were worn throughout the wizarding world as well. But _this_ was something he had never seen before. Her breasts were encased in a cross between a bra and a corset. It was made out of lavender lace, only had half cups and reached to just under her ribcage. The matching pair of knickers were tiny, just a small patch at her crotch and a frilly waist band. And to make matters worse, she lay there moaning and writhing. It was obvious she was having a women's equivalent of a wet dream. This was doing nothing for his new resolve of considering Granger off limits!

He'd never seen a women have a wet dream. Would she climax, just like men tend to do? Because if that was the case, she was assuredly going to wake, like men would. Well, there probably wouldn't be as much spillage, he grinned, so maybe not.

However, he couldn't take the chance of being here besides her, if she would wake up from her arousing dream. But shit, she was a sight to behold! Even when he had seen her in that almost non-existent nightgown, he could not have predicted what seeing her in the throws of passion would do to him. She was magnificent in the dimmed light. Her hair tousled, her lips slightly swollen and she was panting small puffs of air.

He knew he should go. But he felt like the proverbial moth being drawn to a flame. His body would not obey his command to leave. He had to look. She was beautiful in her ecstasy, even in her sleep. Her body was not as svelte as Delphine's but it looked sensuous, lush and ripe.

One of the movements her heated body made caused a nipple to slip out of the cup. He stared at it, his breath choking in his throat. _Gods, this was to much! _Even her being Granger and even the fact that he had just decided he was not going to pursue her, he just wanted to suck it into his mouth, lick it and taste it.

He stood up to walk away but he just couldn't do it. The small mewling sounds that came out of Granger's mouth tempted him too much. His brains stopped functioning; it was all sight and sensations.

He stepped a bit closer to the cot. _Would she wake if he were to touch her?_ He sank to his knees and smelled the flowery perfume at the base of her neck as his right hand left a trail of feather light touches across her abdomen. She arched into the sensation and gave him a new surge of adrenaline. Slowly, he bent his head forward and ever so slightly he let the tip of his tongue touch the rigid flesh. At contact, she moaned and arched her back. He moaned as well and the adrenaline soared through his body. She responded with so much fire, he knew she must like it and he adjusted the pressure, licking her over and over.

He touched her cautiously, reverently, like she was a priceless artwork. He liked this comparison. Because she, _Hermione_, did look like an artwork, a living and breathing one!

Even with his nose pressed against her breast, he could smell her arousal increasing. He saw her clenching her legs together, subconsciously trying to find more friction. How he would love to make love to her, right now. _She's asleep, you pervert!_ his conscience scolded. _Something that is clearly making her feel this good, can't be bad_, he reasoned back.

His blood was pumping through his body at lightning speed. Having Granger here at his feet, horny and willing – and yes, very much asleep – and the risk of her waking up, aroused him to extremes.

He hadn't ever fancied her. Not in school, where she was just the bucktooth, bushy haired know-it-all to him. And a Mudblood. Not when they were joined in the Order, because he didn't see much of her then. And not after the war, because there had been Weasley and then Stone. He never lusted after somebody else's women. But these past few weeks, she had done something to him. She put him under a spell!

He needed to relieve himself of the painful straining of his cock against his trousers. The gratification of finally it in his hand overwhelming. With his left hand, he kept caressing her face, his mouth licking her nipple. _Shit, what was he doing? If she would wake, she'd kill him. Rightfully so! _

He wanted to feel her, to slip his hand beneath the waistband of those knickers, to caress her, lave at her. He wanted to-.

_Fuck! _The ringing of alarm bells in his ear nearly gave him a heart-attack.

Slowly, he stood up. Hermione let out a protesting moan at the loss of contact. After all of her incoherent babbling, he was shocked to hear her now whisper his name. Her movements became less sleepy. He could not have her waking up yet.

Gently he stroked her damp forehead. 'Go back to sleep, Hermione. Let me take care of things. Just sleep, princess.' She calmed somewhat at the sound of his voice. He draped the blanket back over her body and went to check on the potion. After he added these ingredients, the potion needed to simmer slowly for three hours. He would reset Hermione's alarms, so she could continue at six.

After finishing, he went back for one last look. She was once again sleeping peacefully and he stood there, merely watching her for a while. It was her, she changed everything. Never in his life had he done something like this. He never had to, because when he liked a girl all he had to do was snap his fingers and she would willingly come running. So what on earth was he thinking?

She was an enigma and a riddle and he wanted to solve it. He wanted to know, what made her lose control? What would make her let him in? What would he have to do to show get her to show him the real Granger? Because he was convinced that _that _would be a sight to behold!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hermione had been startled when she woke up from the alarm, seeing it was already six in the morning and not one, as had been her plan. _Had she slept through the earlier alarms? _

She could feel her heart in her throat when she approached the large cauldron, simmering on a low fire. Had her brain not still been asleep, at that point, she would have been able to put two and two together. Instead, she stood there, staring at the cauldron for a minute or two before she understood. The small, white card with a monogrammed letter _M _on the front, standing against her pestle and mortar, convinced her. Draco had been there, late at night and had done all the work, whilst letting her get her much needed sleep.

In his velvety voice, which Draco had recorded onto the Dicto-card, he confirmed this, telling her the base was now ready for the last stage and it looked promising. His goodbye of _See you Friday, Granger _left her in a state of shock.

Quickly gathering her wits, she collected the necessary ingredients and added them, stirring for five minutes. With the cauldron resting at the cooling table, she found herself sitting on a stool and staring into oblivion.

W_hat he is doing to me!_ Because she could not deny it any longer, at least not to herself, that he was definitelydoing _something_ to her. They way her body reacted to his touch, or even when she just thought about him touching her. She was on fire every time. But was it just physical or was there more to this _thing_ with Malfoy?

Wait a minute. What was she thinking! This was _Malfoy_ she was thinking about. Not some innocent, nice, trustworthy, polite... She did have to admit that Harry seemed to like him, trust him even. Just like Ginny. And she knew they were not easily fooled. Come to think about it, at both parties she had seen him interact, nobody snubbed him. The opposite actually. He seemed to be well liked, even though she thought he resembled an ice prince.

But, okay, obviously, he changed and got nice and maybe it was just like Luna had said, but that still did not make it a good idea to start to _feel_ things for him.

During the time when she was still reading the _Prophet and Quibbler, _she had seen pictures of him all the time. At parties, gala and, fund raisers. Every time with another – of course – stunning woman on his arm. Although, she hadn't seen him with a date the last few times they met. And when was the last time she checked the society pages?

But, there was no doubt that he must have left a trail of broken hearts through the years! She wasn't foolish enough to let her heart be the next on the list.

And hadn't she just recently decided that she didn't need to be in a relationship? That she was just as happy being single? She just wanted to have fun with her friends.

She stood up from the stool. 'That's settled then! We can be friends. No chance of heartbreak there,' she said to the empty room around her.

* * *

'I never thanked you for the very attentive gifts you left me. 'Hermione looked up to his from the cauldron. 'Thank you! It was really very nice.'

He winked and nodded. 'You're welcome.' She coloured slightly at his gesture, but it seemed she tried to hold the reaction down.

'By the way, how did you know that I liked that particular coffee?' Her tone of voice sounded too strained, like she was trying too hard.

'I have my methods.' He winked again and he saw her trying to school her features, to make it look like she hardly noticed his flirting. _What was going on here? Did she remember Wednesday night? _

'I didn't even realize they sold it in the wizarding world.' This time she just refused to look at him and kept writing on her parchment. She was acting so nervous.

'They don't.'

She looked up at him, startled. He could see her brains working. Yes, he had gone into Muggle London to get her that special coffee she loved. Ah, she figured it out now.

'Okay. That was...unexpected. And friendly.' She focused once again on the work at hand, but not for long. 'So... Do you visit Muggle London often?'

He told her of his dealings with Muggles for Malfoy Enterprises, all the while gauging her reactions. He could see she was impressed with the investments they made in Muggle inventions. But still he had the feeling that something was off. She was behaving nice, friendly. She wasn't even getting excited when he told her about the research lab for Muggle inventions.

'But, I have to say, that except for the business side of the Muggle world, and of course the occasional reports and presentations about Muggle inventions, I know nothing about that world.

'You've never visited? Just to look. To experience?'

He shook his head. 'Nope.' He had to try hard not to burst into laughter, seeing the emotions sliding across her face.

'Well. If you would like, I could show you around one day.'

The brilliance of her smile made it hard to swallow. 'Thank you, Granger. I would love that.'

Again, a blush crept up her cheeks. 'Well, that's what friends are for, right!' She dismissed.

_Aha! So, that was it. Miss Granger had decided it was getting too hot under her feet. _ He smirked inwardly. _In that case, he would have to act upon this challenge. Because no Slytherin ever would pass up on one! Game on, Hermione, game on! _

* * *

'How are things?' Ginny enquired the following Sunday at lunch.

'Better. I have thought long and hard about it and I have decided it would be better if Draco and I became friends. I mean, you seem to like him and Harry does, so he most likely is a nice enough person. And I have to admit, he has been a great help,' Hermione told Ginny.

'So, Draco helped a lot.'

'Yes. I would have never believed it, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but Draco really is very competent at brewing. That shouldn't have really surprised me, though. As I said last time, he was second behind me almost every year when we were still in Hogwarts. And did you know that Draco has a private lab at his company, where he can just dabble with potions, if he wants? So, he really wasn't rusty at all.' Ginny looked at her with a curious smile. 'What?'

'So, it's _Draco_ now, is it?'

She could feel the heat radiating off of her face. 'Yes, well, calling him _Malfoy_ reminded me a bit to much off his father and don't friends call each other by their first names?.' She was very satisfied with her explanation.

'So, he calls you _Hermione _?'

Hermione looked at her, dumbfounded. Bugger, there went her brilliant explanation, right out off the window. 'Well, no. He doesn't know my parents and, well, he just calls me Granger! Wow, I really like these chicken wraps. Where did you get the recipe?'

Her Sunday at the Potters had been nice, except for her third degree interrogation about Draco. Ginny had been unrelenting and it was horribly confronting. But it only steeled her in her resolve. She couldn't even pinpoint when had he become _Draco_, at least in her mind. It just happened, somewhere between his kisses in the kitchen and the surprise breakfast. Suddenly, he went from_ Malfoy_, bouncing ferret, git extraordinaire, to_ Draco_, who brought her Muggle coffee, sent her Dicto-cards and helped her attempt to save their world.

She looked at the world outside her window. Springtime was about to move to summer; the sun was still shining when she got home late that afternoon. The golden globe was gaining strength with each passing day and soon the outdoor pool would open, maybe even next week, she had been told at the community swimming pool yesterday. Ginny still didn't understand her obsession with swimming. The readhead told her she thought it was just too odd, especially as she swam with both men and women.

Hermione had never realised how different the Muggle and wizarding world viewed mixing both sexes in situations that called for less than full clothing. Even though they did not have PE, other than Quidditch, and no-one ever went for a swim in the black lake, she only noticed this when her parents had invited them all - that was Harry, Ron, Ginny and herself - to a day at the beach during her fifth year summer hols.

'Hi, Mrs Weasley.' Hermione hugged her after she dusted herself down from the Floo travel. 'Is everybody ready?'

'Ah, Harry, Hermione, you're here already. They are upstairs, dears, you can go up.' Mrs Weasley smiled warmly at her and Harry.

She ran up the stairs, shouting to her friends as she went along. She found Ginny in her room and Harry sauntered in minutes later, followed by Ron.

'So, do you all have your gear? Towels, sun-screen, bathing-suit?' Hermione asked.

Ginny and Ron went red and then started to stutter. Ron seemed to find his voice first.

'Bathing-suits, Hermione? Bloody hell. I can't go in public wearing nothing but a bathing-suit!'

'What is sun-scream?' Ginny wanted to know.

Harry laughed. 'Sun-screen. That is a lotion you put on your skin to prevent burning from the sun,' he explained.

It took them a while to convince Ron and Ginny that it would be a nice idea. Have a Muggle day at the beach. Hermione coaxed them with the thought of the Muggle studies essays they could write about it. Harry pitched in by telling Ron that there would be loads of girls there, dressed in bikinis. That got Ron on board, although he protested at the thought of his baby sister wearing one of those things.

The ended up leaving an hour later as planned because they had to transfigure suits for the Weasleys.

Hermione and Harry agreed with Ginny and Ron, that telling Mrs Weasley what a _Muggle day at the beach_ entailed would not be wise.

Ron hadn't stopped talking about what he had seen for weeks afterwards. Ginny to this day did not like to go swimming, or sunbath in public. She didn't like the blatant looks and flirting while wearing _spruced up underwear, _as she called it. Hermione had always thought it odd. She had seen witches wear robes that hardly could be called that. Fabric that clung to body's by way of magic alone. And although there was no swimming-suits or sports-gear in the wizarding world to tempt people or to be provocative, she knew hardly knew of anybody that left Hogwarts still a virgin. It was a strange and hypocritical way of living, in her book. Well, at least Harry understood.

Unfortunately, she could not spare the time to sit idly on her tiny balcony to soak up the last rays of sun - she had things to do. Things that would make it possible to get rid of Draco Malfoy as soon as possible. While perusing her over-stacked book shelves, she had found a tome about identifying potion ingredients. It might be of use when it came to the work that lay ahead of her, now that the identification base was finished and fully functional.

Just one more week to prove that the base would work and she could finally dismiss him, send him back to his company and maintain some distance.

* * *

Draco opened his eyes to look at the painted ceiling that adorned Delphine's apartment. The smacking sounds her mouth kept making annoyed him - but he had to admit - whilst looking down his torso and onto her head, she did give excellent blow jobs. She sucked him deeper into her mouth and licked around his sensitive head like an expert when she glided him back out again. He snorted; she probably earned that title, actually.

'Did you say something, _mon petit dragon_?' She had let him pop out of her mouth to utter her newest nick-name.

'No, you're doing fine, just fine.' Gently he pushed her back towards his throbbing erection. The life of a spy wasn't all bad and after the day he had had, he deserved a reward.

Hours later he still couldn't catch any sleep. The day kept going round and round in his head.

In order to subtly convey the message to Delphine that he had more important things to do now, he had booked a port-key to take him to France two hours later than he normally would have done. Delphine had been in a murderous mood. This had lasted until they arrived at her family estate, where she had been set right by some of the older females._ Gods_, he had thought,_ it's like they're a pack of wolves! _It scared him to think he would once have been destined to live a life like this. The way they blindly followed orders, followed protocol, without questioning any of it. It sickened him!

He had left Delphine with the women on the patio and had gone Balzac's office to make report. He was making slow progress due to the fact that at every turn, he sabotaged his own successes. The problem was that this slow progress angered Balzac and he had received a scolding speech about family, loyalty and a general rant about Mudbloods polluting their society and the necessity to rid the world of them as soon as possible.

After this scolding he had tried to get Balzac to part with more information about the organisation. The only thing the old man wanted to tell him was that there was indeed a British contingent, but he need not worry himself with that now. Draco did worry, not knowing who he was fighting against at home made it a liability and in his line of work, that could be deadly.

'Am I mistaken to think you would revel in the opportunity to get some hands-on action, Draco? It must be utterly frustrating, having to mingle with those beneath you on a daily basis!' Balzac said.

'Indeed. It has been a while and I have to say, I rather long for a good blood duel.' He plastered a disgusted sneer on his face. 'It is just appalling what the Ministry is forcing us to. Did you know, I have to employ a minimum of 10% of muggleborn at Malfoy Enterprises?'

Balzac was aware of the legislation that companies back home had to comply with. He loathed the interference the government was having on the lives of ordinary people. He confided in Draco that the next target would be a ministry employee who worked at the port-key manufacturing department. The spies had found out that he had a special artefact that could make portkeys and obtaining that item would mean they would no longer have to use illegally produced ones.

During the rest of the afternoon the atmosphere had been tense. Draco observed several of the other men looking reprimanded. Delphine was looking decidedly downcast as well and he could only imagine what had been said to her concerning loyalty and family. After tea they had excused themselves and he had taken her to _Bois du Boulogne_ for a walk. She was bored out of her mind, but she said nothing, to his utter amusement. She probably could still hear her great-grandfather's words ringing in her ear. His plan was to make her loath him. So much so, that she would be the one to break the relationship up. She had outlived her usefulness, especially since she was developing possessive tendencies that Draco wanted nothing to do with.

After a quiet dinner in an obscure restaurant, he had invited himself back to her place. He knew she wanted sex; it oozed from every pore. Her plan of seduction was obvious and ineffective. The outfit she had changed into to tempt him was sluttish and made from red patent leather and black netting. He had let her give him a blowjob, which was rather nice, and after that they had straight forward sex in a missionary position. He made sure that he didn't last long and if Delphine would have known, that it was the mental picture of Hermione Granger in her tantalizing lavender outfit that was the reason for his eagerness, she would have flipped a switch! He knew full well she did not finish, but he rolled off of her, onto his back. Within minutes he was fast asleep. Or at least, that is what he made her believe. She had huffed and muttered quite silently for about ten minutes before taking matters into her own hands. For the first time he was confronted with the sounds of Delphine having a real orgasm, which was much more interesting to hear than the usual squealing and grunting as she normally did.

Balzac's warming ran through his mind once more.

'You will not disappoint me, Draco, if you wish to obtain Delphine's hand in marriage!'

Draco had looked at his hand-made dragon-hide boots and planted a contrite expression on his face.

'I will endeavour to be worthy of her, Balzac,' he had said while looking into the eyes of the next Dark Lord. 'Though I know the coming months will not be easy on her. She had a hard time understanding that my tasks will take me from her side. I fear she does not understand.'

'Leave Delphine to me,' Balzac had replied ominously.

When he had told Delphine that he would not return the next weekend, during their dinner, she hadn't flinched and smiled pleasantly told him she would wait for his return. Yes, she was a pure-blood witch all the way!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: The text used in this chapter belong to Adina Howard, Boys II Men and the Pointer Sisters and/or their record labels.

It was 7.30 a.m. on Monday morning and Hermione was ready for another week. She'd wrestled through the tome she had found and she was carrying an armload of parchments full of notes, a bag with fresh croissants and a small cardboard tray with two paper cups full of steaming hot coffee. Today was the kick-off for the _befriend Draco_ campaign!

When she rounded the last corner, he was already standing there, actually hanging in the door frame.

'Good morning,' she greeted him cheerfully. 'How has your weekend been? Mine was great, but I'm really glad it is Monday again, aren't you? I brought us some breakfast this time.' She moved her arms up to show all her offerings. 'I hope you like croissants and I got us both a White Chocolate Moccachino and a double cappuccino, just in case you're not that into sweet drinks and I bought an assortment of croissants. This shop I always buy them at has some with fillings - they are to die for. Well, not really of course, but you get my drift, right? ' _Oh Gods, she was babbling. Shut up! Shut up! _She looked back at him to see him smirking at her.

'Good morning to you too, Granger. But tell me, how were you planning on opening the door?'

'Uhm...' She looked down on her arms. She hadn't thought that far, she had just thought to buy breakfast as a peace offering, which they would eat, together, and thus, start to bond. Or something like that. But here she was, ready to bond, but no way to get into her lab without... From the corner of her eyes she saw him start to move as he pushed his body from the wall and stalked towards her, which caused her to stiffen. _What was he planning on doing?_ Before she was able to move everything out of the way, so she could get to her wand, his hands caressed hers and he took over her load. _Constant vigilance!_ Moody's voice screamed in her head.

'Here, let me take that, so you can worry about the wards.'

She stared at him, probably rather stupidly, but let him take everything. _Shit, why did he keep on doing that to her? _ _He's not doing anything_, another voice called back. _He was!_ He was and bugger it all to hell, her good mood was gone. She hated Mondays and she hated _him_!

* * *

The thunderclouds that flew in over Granger's head were quite hilarious. When she had walked towards him, her arms full of coffee and assortments and a hopeful gleam in her eyes he knew he had to do something. Her babbling, probably meant to convey her feelings of friendliness towards him, was rather adorable and her reaction to his touch had told him she was extremely nervous.

He had several ways to get to her. Firstly, he could challenge her. Nothing could get Granger in a knot faster than to be academically challenged. Especially when she knew she was right!

The second option was to be overly friendly, almost killing her with kindness.

The last, and in his opinion the most interesting one, was to play on her insecurities as a woman. She had many, he knew. Her looks - he had known that for a long time and had taunted her for it for years. But he could also play on her desirability, he thought. Seducing her would get her temper flaring.

Today, he decided, he would use a mix of friendliness and seduction. She could not reprimand him when he balanced on the thin line she had drawn around the interaction that was acceptable where it concerned him. Today he would let her believe he would step in there.

He spent the rest of the morning smiling sweetly at everything she said and offering to help her with anything. He opened doors, collected ingredients and carried cauldrons to and fro. Sometimes she would look at him with a question in her eyes, but she never said anything. He made sure he was constantly nearby - but not to close - not yet anyway. He could see she had a hard time coping with it,. But he also knew that she would not say or do anything that could jeopardise the fragile equilibrium she was trying to uphold.

After lunch, and a charming speech by Granger about friendship, he changed his tactics and made sure he was constantly by her side and more times than not, in her personal space. When she was stirring, he would lean over her shoulder to have a peak, making sure his chest would lightly press against her back. Her hand reaching for a ladle would encounter his own hand, already holding the item. He could see he was having an effect on her; her body becoming more rigid as the time passed, but she refused to react to him. That was until he gently brushed a tendril of hair out of her face.

'Will you just _stop_ bothering me! Gods, Draco, I have had it!'

Her eyes were shining and he imagined he could almost feel the raw magical energy swirling around her as she lashed out to him.

'What the hell, Granger! I'm just trying to help. Isn't that what friends are for. Gods, woman!' He took a hurt and exasperated stance.

For a little while she stood there looking at him and he could see she was trying to make up her mind. _Decisions, decisions, Granger, which box do you want to put me in?_ She let her breath flow out of her mouth and she seemed to deflate with it.

'I'm sorry, Malfoy, I don't know what came over me. you're right, you know. Friends help each other.' She sat down on a stool and let a hand glide over her face. 'Maybe we should quit for today.'

He convinced her that they should try to work a little bit longer. She acquiesced reluctantly, but could hardly waver at her _befriend Draco Malfoy resolve_ after just one day, he figured.

* * *

It was Monday afternoon and Hermione walked back to the elevators from the dungeons. She was frazzled beyond believe. Draco was...infuriating!

He was everywhere, handing her things and helping her without her asking him to do so. And he kept touching her at every turn! Oh, they where innocent enough; a finger that brushed against her hand when he handed her a ladle or his body pressing against her when he was looking over her shoulder, to see if all was going according to plan. She knew he was doing it on purpose, he must!

To her horror, she knew that the moment she said _anything_ the jig was up and she could no longer uphold the image that she only wanted a friendship.

Well, actually, she did but her traitorous body had other ideas! Every time he brushed past her or touched her skin, she shivered and flinched.

During lunch she had steered the discussion towards that of friends and friendships. She animatedly told him of her friendship with both Harry and Ron and of course the later edition of Ginny, during the Hogwarts years. All the mischief they had caused and the fun they had had. She ended it with the solemn declaration, that friendships were to valuable to mess with.

'In hindsight, I wished that Ron and I would have just stayed friends. I swear, I'm never making that mistake again. Dating your friend, that is just trouble waiting to happen!'

She had hoped it would help, that he would get the hint. But, apparently, he didn't, because that afternoon had been an unrelenting barrage of niceties and touches that made her blood become induced with magma. She was ready to blow!

Her mood hadn't improved when she got home. There had been nothing interesting on the wireless, nothing on her Muggle telly and Crooks was annoyed because she wouldn't sit still, making it impossible for him to snuggle on her lap. As retaliation, he kept clawing at her. This day couldn't get any worse. She was going to bed!

Wednesday evening found her in front of the telly, after another gruelling day. It turned out to be an almost exact replica of Monday _and _Tuesday. And there still wasn't any thing on TV and Ginny wasn't at home - or at least - she didn't respond to her Floo call. So she wasn't able to rant at anyone and she so desperately needed it to.

Because, Draco was friendly and nice and helpful and all things pleasant, but he made her extremely nervous. And nervousness and a Potions lab, that was a lethal combination. She just had to think back at all the near-death experiences poor Neville had had, back in school. But it was precisely this nervousness that caused her to falter and almost drop a heavy pestle on her foot. Actually, she did drop the pestle, it just never reached her foot. Instead it hit the floor with a thundering sound.

Before she was able to react at all, Draco had wrapped his arms around her waist and yanked her back before she could be hurt. For some time she had stood there, with her back closely pressed against his chest and his arms around her body. He had enveloped her with his warmth and his smell, which she remembered from the time he had kissed her in Harry's kitchen. She had panted heavily and had tried to convince herself it was from the scare of nearly having her foot broken, but she knew it had nothing to do with that!

Crooks had given up finding a place to lull on her lap and was eyeing her angrily from a window seat cushion.

She switched off the telly and turned on her Muggle radio. She needed to work off some energy. Before long she was sweaty and grimy, but her kitchen looked sparkling and she was feeling a little more centred. Picking up her radio she walked towards the bathroom. Crooks was swirling around her feet, happy to see his mistress acting more like usual.

'I'm going to take a bath, Crooks, and when I get out you'll get some salmon.' Crooks mewled appreciatively at this promise.

The warm voice of Derek Ansell, her favourite radio presenter at Magic Radio – which, surprisingly, was a Muggle station - was telling her the five songs he had selected for that night's _"All time top 5"._

'Tonight we're celebrating lovers everywhere and to accompany them on this sweltering hot night, we have the All time top 5 songs to make love to! And we're starting off this list with Adina Howard's "_Freak like me_.".'

Oh, why not? A night for lovers was just what she needed to be reminded of after the kind of day she had had. The sultry voice of Adina echoed through the bathroom. She loved this song! Maybe this list might not be so bad after all. Hermione started to sing along and move her toes to the beat.

'That can satisfy me just for me

If you are that kind of man  
'cuz I'm that kind of girl  
I got a freaky secret, everybody sing  
'cause we don't give a damn about a thing'

Hermione giggled as she heard herself sing about her having a freaky secret. _Did she have freaky secret?_ She wondered. _Maybe her lingerie collection?_ Another giggle escaped her mouth.

'That was our lovely Adina. Let's move on to our number four song. Of course it's "_Do that to me one more time" _ by Captain & Tenille...'

Hermione sank deeper into the soft bubbles and let the sounds wash over her. If she was going to endure the five love songs, she might just as well let her mind wander back to the past few days, because she could not figure Draco out.

The fact that he was being nice to her still didn't sit right with her. She had contemplated him having something up his sleeve several times, but somehow she couldn't believe he would jeopardize the operation. She may not have an unfaltering beliefs in Draco Malfoy - Harry and Ginny – sure had, and that belief went further than a mere working relationship, she had noticed. They liked him! Well, not her, Hermione certainly didn't. She'd never liked him at all!

Again, her conscience disagreed and piped in: _You might not like him now, but you did once, remember?_

_Yes, she remembered_, she thought, as she dunked her head beneath the water. As a first year, soon after she had acquainted herself with the wondrous world of Severus Snape and Potions, she had started to take in her surroundings. She was in awe at everything she saw in those damp dungeons. The arches, the ingredients – the eerily ones stood on shelves along the walls – and all the cauldrons. She had also started to look around at the other children in her class and soon of all her attention was fixated on a very blond and very haughty looking Draco Malfoy. She had instantaneously been intrigued by him and had started to watch him every time they shared a lesson. She most of all loved to watch him during Potions, where his hands had worked meticulously and with feeling.

A year's worth of puppy love had been shattered during their second year when he had called her a Mudblood for the first time and she had – simultaneously – experienced the pain of a broken heart for the first time. But still she had watched him from the corner of her eye. At the time, she had told herself, she was just keeping an eye on him because he couldn't be trusted and he was a bully. Truth was, she got much more satisfaction in watching him than she did when she caught him doing something bad.

The seventies sounds flowed into the early nineties ballad from Boyz II Men.

'Just make a wish on your night  
Anything that you ask  
I will give you the love of your life'

The passionate voices called her back to August of 1994 - the summer she had been fifteen – when this song was a hit.. Her parents had taken her to France for a holiday for three weeks. She had danced many a night away in the holiday park disco to the sounds of Boyz II Men.

It was the same year that brought the Tri-wizard Tournament and the Yule Ball to Hogwarts. Draco had looked stunning in his dress robes and she had thought she looked very nice as well. But he hadn't even glanced her way when she descended the stairs to meet up with Victor. That night, she had wished she could get her _wish,_ just like in the song and he would dance with her. But, of course he didn't and a jealous Ron and fumbling Victor did nothing to improve the night either

She let her still damp body plummet onto the bed. Maybe a bath hadn't been the brightest idea, considering that there was a heat wave that even her cooling charms couldn't fight. Lying on the bed was no use either since sweat was starting to glisten on her body already.

Why was she spending so much time thinking of Draco Malfoy anyway? _Because he scares the hell out of you, that's why!_ The way he made her body react and her mind falter was disconcerting, to say the leas. And when he was near her, all she could do was close her eyes to will her body – and mind – back to work.

Of course, she could lie to herself and tell herself that she was afraid because, with his influence on her, it would only be a matter of time, before accidents would happen. But that was not all of it. Most of all, she was scared to death that he would find out about her crush!

_Maybe he likes you too; he keeps touching you enough!_ She sighed. He did touch her often. Too often, really. It all had been very casual, until he saved her foot from impending damage this afternoon. She remembered the feeling of his arms around her waist and his head next to hers as she lent back into him. She had been screaming at her traitorous body to stop reacting to him, but it wouldn't listen and before long her mind was in no state to protest to anything anymore.

For a small moment her equally traitorous mind had entertained the idea of just turning around to kiss him. Oh, how her imagination betrayed her after that, picturing herself against his body, grinding her hips to get more friction between her legs and kissing that luscious mouth.

With the images of her and Draco swirling in her head again, the number one song was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. The tantalizing sounds of The Pointer Sisters with "_Slow hand" _flowed into her bedroom. Slow hands... Of course, this had to be the number one song. Her mind conjured up an image of Draco's hands as he undressed her in her lab. He would walk up to her and tell her to strip, which he would help her to do and then he would reverently stroke the heated skin that would start to show. His appreciative sounds at the sight of her lingerie would send bolts of arousal through her body.

She closed her eyes and let her hands glide up along her ribs to brush against the sensitive sides of her breasts. Her nipples reacted to the feeling of her soft hands and hardened. _She was burning up!_ Draco's hands on her waist fluttered through her mind and she placed on of her own hands there, to simulate the feeling.

One hand travelling further up towards her mouth, the other took the path down her tummy and beyond, to her swollen quim. While sucking on one of her fingers, wishing it were his, she touched her nether lips. She was already so wet with need. _Gods, she was so horny! _

Her fingers found her swollen clit and she tenderly stroked the nub. _How would it feel like if this were his fingers? _That thought made her move more frantically, searching for release from the tension that had been building, how would it feel when he moulded his body to hers as he leaned over her.

With her left hand she started to pinch her nipples, adding to her arousal. She was extremely wet and she let her legs fall open, wanting penetration, but being all to aware that it wouldn't come. She whimpered, her body searching, wanting and she thought of his velvety voice and the way he smelled. She imagined him being there with her and stroking her with his long, pale fingers. She thought of how his fingers would feel like, deep within her.

Two of her fingers penetrated her quim and it was all it took to send her over the edge. Her body arched and started convulsing while letting out a loud moan. Just before she fell asleep, a thought crossed her mind. Maybe Draco Malfoy was her freaky secret...

* * *

It was Thursday - day four of his own campaign to show Hermione that he_ didn't fit into a box_, and he could see he was wearing her down. She seemed lost in her own world today and only reacted when he asked her something or the other, and even then she would only mutter something inaudible. He saw it for what it was: another sign of her apparent discomfort. And she turned red an awful lot.

'I say, Granger, aren't you dressed too warmly today?'

She looked back at him, confused. 'What?'

'Well, you look a little flushed. Don't you have summer robes?'

'These _are_ summer robes, thank you,' she answered tightly.

He eyed the black, woollen robes she was wearing. 'They are black and made from wool, Granger. Who are you kidding?'

She huffed at his comments and went back to work.

'You can just strip, you know. Here, I'll do the same.' He shrugged off his fine, silken robes to reveal a crisp white dress shirt and pair of worn jeans.

'you're wearing _jeans_!' She sounded rather accusing, but he could see her eyes roaming his body. He hadn't chosen this outfit on purpose, but he was glad he was wearing it. The tailored shirt and tight jeans showed off his body, he knew, and judging the look on her face, she agreed.

'Indeed, I am. Now come on, Granger - strip!' And he gave her his signature smirk. He was betting on the fact that, once again, she would have forgone wearing anything other than underwear beneath her robes. Shame she would never take the robes them off, because he was curious what wondrous outfit she was hiding beneath today.

'I will do no such thing!' she shrieked before she went Weasel-red.

'Don't be ridiculous, Granger. We're friends. You're not wearing something improper beneath your robes, are you?' He stepped closer, his arms reaching out to catch her. The reaction to his taunting was not what he had expected. Granger went from fiery red to white as a sheet in mere seconds. His heart was beating in his throat as he saw her reach for the workbench she was standing next to, to keep her from collapsing.

'Shit, Granger, I was just kidding, are you alright? '

'I think so. I just have to...' she stammered.

He pushed her back onto the stool and _accio'ed_ a glass of water. Her face felt clammy as he brushed aside her hair. She turned her eyes up towards him.

'Thank you,' she all but whispered.

He let her be for the rest of the day.

* * *

He was nursing his second Firewhiskey in the yellow parlour at the Manor when his mother stepped into the room.

'Draco, what a pleasant surprise this is!' She smiled widely at him and went to sit down on the sofa. After Mips brought her a sherry, a worried expression appeared on her face. 'Is everything all alright? With the _business_ in France, I mean?'

He took another swig. 'I've been accepted in the inner folds and it is even sicker and more twisted than I had expected. They rival the thoughts and action of the last sociopathic madman that wanted to rid the world of all he deemed beneath him.' He chuckled darkly, 'and the sickest thing is that they are using Muggle technology to their advantage. They are using a specific genetic code that isn't found in wizards and witches to develop a potion to kill everybody who is muggleborn.' A sad sigh escaped his lips. 'And we thought the potion we're researching was the real deal - the end result - but now it seems it was just a prototype and this is turning out to be more of a race against the clock than we had anticipated.'

His mother had gasped at what he had told her. 'Who is researching this, Draco? Are you, at the ME labs?' She shook her head. 'Draco, you're already taking so many risks and I can't loose you. Not now when we finally have a shot at a future. Please,' she pleaded with him, tears welling in her eyes.

He sat down beside his mother and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. 'I know you worry mother, but that really isn't necessary. Besides I'm not the lead researcher. I'm only an _assistant _to Hermione Granger. She was in my year at Hogwarts and she's a Potions Mistress now.' His arm slipped from his mother's shoulders and he let his body sag back against the back of the sofa as he closed his eyes. 'For the last week we've been working hard to find a solution. Actually, I think we're getting very close. And as far as taking risks, there are just seven people who know about this. I would trust them with my life. When I arrive and leave the Ministry, I'm completely _disillusioned_, so you needn't worry about me.' He looked back to his mother; she looked so small and fragile now. The war had taken a large toll on her and he wished he didn't have to put her through more anxiety about her loved ones. 'Don't worry, mother. I will be safe.'

It was at the dinner table his that mother started chatting cheerfully again.

'I received another letter from your great-grandmother yesterday.'

He looked up from his soup. 'Ah, and what news was there this time?'

'I am to congratulate you, it seems, on your immanent betrothal to Delphine. _She _has sent her blessing. But seriously, Draco, you're getting yourself in too deep and you're playing with that poor girl's heart as well!'

He smirked at his mother. 'Yes, well, I'm working on that and you don't have to worry to much about Delphine. She's a very grown woman and not unaccustomed to playing games herself. I only need to keep this up until we can round up this investigation and I can go back to my life, without a clingy woman monopolising all my time. This might not be an incentive for Granger to hurry up, but it certainly is for me.' Although, if she knew about this sordid little detail concerning his investigation, she might work over-time to get rid of him.

After soup came the main course and a new topic.

'How is Hermione doing?'

'Hermione? 'Baffled, he stared at his mother. 'I wasn't even aware that you knew each other and now you tell me you're on a first name basis with Granger?'

'Really, Draco, 'she scolded, 'you can't keep calling a grown woman by her last name. you're no longer in school. And to answer your question, we've met during the war, when I was sequestered at the Order Headquarters. We talked a couple of times.' She looked at him pointedly. 'Why do you think it was so easy for me to change my ways after the war?'

He had always thought it was his good influence, but clearly he owed Granger – _Hermione _– for that.

Desert took the cake, so to speak.

'I read in the _Prophet _that she broke up with that Stone fellow. Rather nasty break-up, with him flaunting his new girlfriend all over the place. I believe she's a German girl, a Quidditch player.'

He wisely kept his mouth shut.

'Well, I say, it is rather sad for her, being replaced like that. Don't you agree?'

'Yes, she has a knack for picking out losers for boyfriends.'

'Draco! That's not a very nice thing to say'

'Well, it's true, 'he countered sourly.

'Hmm. I remember when that Weasley boy broke off with her in the middle of the ballroom at the Ministry. That was really an awful scene. Him yelling at her and her looking so contrite and ashamed. If I'm not mistaken he even called her undesirable. Rather shocking display and it was much undeserved. I thought she was a very lovely looking girl.'

He grunted back something inaudible. _How did we get to discussing Granger's – Hermione's – desirability?_

'Well, has she changed much these, what has it been, five or so years?' His mother wanted to know.

He swallowed. 'She still looks lovely, mother.' He never could lie to her. His mother smiled sweetly, which he found very disturbing. _What was she playing at? _

Friday arrived and finally the last stages of the testing were being concluded. Luckily, all was looking positive.

While waiting for the results, Granger had withdrawn to her office where she was frantically scribbling Arithmancy formulas onto parchment. He had forgotten how smart she actually was.

The very disturbing conversation he had had with his mother kept creeping back into his mind. Maybe, in hindsight, it hadn't been such a good idea to visit. With the bi-weekly dinner tonight, she would be getting suspicious.

Of course, he could have protested and told her that he had no thoughts or feelings about Granger. But she always - _always_ - knew when he was lying and certainly when he was doing it so blatantly. And what was that, anyway, with making him use her first name? He was very comfortable with calling her Granger, it reminded him of the girl she had once been.

* * *

'Argh! I am going crazy here!'

The outburst from Granger's office made him look up and it seemed he couldn't even lie to himself anymore, because she looked nothing like the little girl he had gone to school with. Except for the irate expression that donned her face; _that _he had seen plenty of times.

'What the fuck, Granger? Do you need to yell like a banshee?' He stalked over to the doorway.

'I'm not yelling like a banshee! Besides, it is my lab and I can scream out of frustration if I want to!'

It was very obvious she was frustrated, but somehow he wouldn't believe it was just because of calculations. She had been snapping at him all day and turning bright red even when she did nothing more than look at him. There was something going on. He stared at her, trying to lock eyes, just to see what would happen. Aha! There she went again, becoming red, jittery and flustered.

It was him! She was reacting this way because of him. He smirked at her and promptly she turned her head away from his gaze.

'So, what got your knickers in a twist, Granger? Was it too hot to sleep last night?'

Her back stiffened and he knew he was on to something!

'Or were it hot dreams that kept you awake?'

Now even her neck was starting to turn red. He had to watch out since it was Friday and he didn't want to end a perfectly nice week with a _personal explosion_ by Granger.

'I mean, really, Granger - you can't let me thing that a simple Arithmancy calculation is what is getting you down, are you?'

But instead having a laugh and letting off some steam, she went mental. He looked at the girl...woman...no, _banshee_, screaming at him, accusing him of everything that apparently was wrong in her world.

'you're just a miserable, pale... failure. You didn't even do Arithmancy on a N.E.W.T. level, so what do you know about _anything, _Malfoy!'

First he just looked at her and hoped she would leave it there. _Don't go there. Just stop, Hermione!_

'I mean - come on - how hard is that subject anyhow? I remember you could get along just dandy when we-'

'Granger, drop it!'

'Why? Why should I stop when you know I'm telling the truth? You weren't allowed to take it at N.E.W.T. level because you were screwing around with-'

'Just shut up, Granger. _Shut up!_ Just-'

He kissed her! It probably wasn't the sanest tactic, but, in the end, it did the job of shutting her up. It did nothing for his heart rate or blood pressure. But Gods, she tasted so delicious.

It took some effort to stop, to get his tongue to leave her mouth, his lips to depart from hers and his hands to retreat, but he managed. With a growled _I'll see you on Monday_ he left her standing in the lab looking very confused and very, thoroughly snogged.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

She had been swimming for over half an hour already and still she was seething. She was so mad that she didn't even feel appreciative of the fact that the outdoor pool was finally opened. She was mad, furious, enraged at...herself.

She had played with fire and had gotten burned. At least that is what her lips, her face, her neck - everywhere he had touched her - had felt like. Hot, flustered and burned.

And where the hell was Ginny when she needed her? Right, she off to Romania for a surprise visit to Charlie with Harry. Lousy timing!

So, after an almost completely sleepless night - because she would see his eyes every time she closed hers - she was now furiously swimming laps in the community pool.

Hoisting herself out of the water, she felt drained and even her mind seemed to have found temporary rest.

'Boy trouble?'

She gazed into the face of Becky. Becky, one of the few Muggle friends she made after she and Ron broke up. They lived in the same apartment building and had started swimming together on Saturday mornings. Soon they had been joined by Becky's boyfriend, her brother and his girlfriend. From time to time, others others would join, but this was their Saturday Swimming Society.

'Something like that. Co-worker trouble, really.' Hermione sighed deeply

'Boy co-worker?'

'Yep. And an infuriatingly one at that!'

'Cute as hell, by any chance?'

Hermione grunted.

'I take that as a yes?'

* * *

'I hear you're having boy troubles?' Becky's brother Trevor wrapped an arm around her as they walked towards the water slide. 'What did the wanker do?'

'He kissed me.' _Again_, she thought.

'So?'

'To shut me up. I was being...impossible...and rude...and to top it off, insensitive.'

Trevor beamed at her, while rubbing his knuckles on her scalp. 'Don't you worry your little head - he'll forgive you!'

'I'll doubt it,' she murmured before shrieking at the strong hands that grabbed her waist and chucked her into the pool.

* * *

'You kissed, I hear?' Becky and Jill questioned her after they went down the water slide.

'He kissed _me_...and I might have...sort of...kissed back. A little!'

'And he is a co-worker?' Jill was just catching on.

'And a looker as well!' Becky added.

She ended up describing Draco. From his platinum blond hair, to his steely grey eyes, his haughty face, aristocratic countenance, muscled torso – he plays a lot of sport – and his long legs – thinking back at his faded jeans – and of course not forgetting a just marvellous arse – courtesy of those same jeans, which looked to be moulded to his body. At the end they were all almost salivating.

'Ah, he's a metro-man, dying his hair and all?' Jill was intrigued.

'It's his natural colour; it's extremely blond, almost silver-' Almost exactly like the hair she saw in the corners of her eyes, standing by the gates of the swimming pool. She immediately turned her head but she didn't see him, just some children with blond hair. She must be starting to see things, because what on earth would Draco Malfoy be doing outside of a Muggle swimming pool?

Mark, Becky's boyfriend, started to tickle her and she shrieked and ran away with him chasing her, while the rest of them discussed if blond hair pointed to albino genes.

_

* * *

I'll see you on Monday. _That little sentence kept playing in her mind all Saturday long. _I'll see you on Monday, _while she was doing her laundry. _I'll see you on Monday, _when she did her shopping._ I'll see you on Monday, _lying in her had enough of Draco and the way he always left her with that promise on Friday, subsequently ruining her entire weekend, wondering what he meant and what would happen on said Monday.

It was finally Monday and one question kept swirling around in Hermione's head: where was he?

Hermione was startled when a hand came to rest on her shoulder and she turned around to look straight into the eyes of Draco Malfoy.

'I told you I would be back today so why do you look so surprised?' He murmured in her ear, leaning towards her.

'You did say that,' she answered breathlessly, not knowing what else to reply, with him standing so close to her.

'And a Malfoy always keeps his promise. You know that don't you, Hermione?'

He called her Hermione! The way her name rolled off his tongue made her quiver. His finger started to stroke the collar of her robes and her heart rate sky-rocketed. _What was he doing!_

'You really should invest in some silken summer robes - you're burning up.'

His finger dipped further inside her woollen robe and she had to admit, she was feeling rather hot.

'Your skin is overheated; you really should take it off, Hermione.'

His voice was so hypnotic and looking in his eyes did nothing to return her lucidity, so she simply nodded.

'you're wearing something under them, aren't you, Hermione?'

She nodded again, dumbly. She was, but because of the heat it was just her underwear. But even that knowledge did nothing to make her recoil from what he was doing to her clothing. His hands started at the clasp at her collarbone and he slowly worked his way down the buttons beneath it. She peeked down and could see the swell of her breast showing and some flashes of the soft green bodice that encased them. His fingers skimmed the border between flesh and fabric and she sighed. Since starting unbuttoning her robe, he hadn't said a word and she startled when his voice softly told her that he had never before seen such beautiful underwear. He chuckled, and told her that this was one Muggle influence he hoped to get used to, starting right now.

Only wearing her bodice and butterfly knickers, she stood there, weak kneed, in front of Draco, who was melting her with his gaze. She loved the way his eyes seemed to smoulder, like liquid tin or maybe even mercury. From the top of her head to her painted toenails, he stroked her with his gaze and when he was finished, he let his fingers retrace the tracks.

_Ohhh, _she moaned in her mind; his fingers felt just like heaven, so cool on her heated skin and an odd mix of soft and callused - from work or Quidditch. They lingered in the valley between her breasts before teasing her hardened nipples. _Please, _she thought, _don't stop!_ He didn't and his hands encased her waist before descending further, to swiftly brush past her mound. _No, no, no, not that fast!_ He teased her some more, still standing 2 inches from her. She wanted to touch him, to feel his body against hers like she had imagined it so often after their workdays. She pleaded with her eyes and he acquiesced.

Her lips felt raw from the kisses and she loved it. Never before had she ever felt this passionate. Her blood was burning in her veins and the control over her breathing had deluded her for some time already. She just wanted him to...

_Oh, right there!_ His hand dipped under the waistband of her green knickers, a slim finger slipped over her swollen clit and went directly into her dripping quim. The hand at her waist steadied her when she let her head roll back in ecstasy.

'Oh, Draco, please!' Were the first words she spoke since he had started undressing her.

'Please what, Hermione? What do you want?' His voice queried next to her ear.

'Just...please...Draco! I...I can't take it any longer!' The desperation in her voice surprised even her.

He just smirked.

'I know, love. I know.'

He stepped away from her and the loss of contact made her whimper. But he had no plans of leaving her and he went down in front of her. With two fingers hooked behind her knickers, he slid them down her legs. He stayed on his knees and started kissing her legs, from her knees up to the apex between her thighs. She opened them for him and he pressed his cheek to her thigh, while smelling her scent deeply.

'You smell like heaven, Hermione. I'm sure you will taste the same.' Her quim twitched at his words, but her mind froze. _He wouldn't do _that _to her, would he?_

When her knees no longer supported her weight, he gently picked her up and walked her to the wing-backed chair in her office. Once she was seated he opened her legs once more and started all over again. His tongue slid over her labia to her clit and with tiny licks he reduced her world to just him and her.

Her knuckles were turning white from the pressure with which she held onto the arm rests and her head was lolling along the back of the chair in desperation. She had to force her pelvis to stay still, but the heat was building up so fast now, it felt like she was almost enveloped by it completely, radiating outwards from her very wet quim.

His lips were plucking at her clit and his tongue was flicking it as well. He varied this with long, leisurely licks from her perineum back up. His tongue dipped deeply into her and she convulsed at the feeling. _Oh, Gods, this could not be happening to her. After experiencing this, she really never wanted anything else, ever, ever, again! _

It took a little while for her to register that he was talking to her. She tilted her head back up and opened her eyes and so to be treated to a dishevelled looking Draco. His hair was tousled, his eyes had darkened and his face reddish and shiny from her juices.

'What?' Her voice quivered.

'Do you want to finish on my mouth or on my cock?'

Her mouth dropped at the way he talked to her. It was so..._dirty!_ She couldn't answer that question!

'Do you want my mouth, Granger?'

She shook her reddening head.

Tenderly, he pulled her from the chair. For a moment she stood there, not knowing what to do or what to expect. Her eyes caught his hands as his wand made a movement which made his robes start to unbutton and his trousers disappeared. He sat down, his eyes trained on her face. When he was seated, his legs bent and hands resting on the arm rests, he called for her.

She hadn't dared to look downwards, not knowing how to react to so much casual nakedness. He called her again and her legs obeyed him. She straddled him, still not looking down on him. But she should. She wanted to see him, to see...'

Hermione yelped at the weight of Crookshanks, who landed like a log on her stomach. With her heart beating frantically, from both the dream and his attack, she gave her pet a wide-eyed at the pet.

'What, Crooks! What is so important that you have to wake me in the middle of the night?' In the middle of her dream!

After taking care of the dietary needs of her cat, she went to sit at her dining table and sadness washed over her. She was dreaming about him. Again! This time it was so much worse than the one she had in the lab. Her body felt like it was ready to burst into flames.

'What am I going to do?' She asked at no-one in particular. She let her head fall into her hands and the tears dripped onto the table.

_ '_Why? Why? Why!' She wailed. She didn't want this, she never even asked for this. She had thought that falling for him once, and having her heart broken, would have been enough. Hadn't she learned her lesson?

And really, what was she thinking? Her and Draco Malfoy? As if he would ever like _her! _ Draco Malfoy went out with svelte blond girls, like the ones she saw in the photographs in the _Prophet. _He didn't socialize with frumpy Potions Mistresses.

He would laugh if he ever found out about her _crush. _He would think it the joke of the year, with her luck in men.

And, if by unfathomable luck, he did not find out, she could forget ever finishing any work with him there. Every time he looked at her or spoke to her or – heaven forbid, or maybe not – would touch her, she would blush, stutter and falter.

And if it wasn't his attention that that drove her mad, it would be the lack of sleep due to these dreams!

Her entire career was at stake, the lives of countless people – probably including her own – and the respect of Harry!

All cried out, she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. This had to stop, before she would lose it completely. When Ron had dumped her, she had promised herself she was going to take better care of herself. Feel better about herself, even if no-one else would see; like with her lingerie. After Gil, who – eerily - didn't differ that much from Ron in the end – him rather wanting attention from being her boyfriend, than wanting _her_ attention – she had come to the conclusion that, apparently, she had a ghastly taste in men. Her recent infatuation with the albino git only underlined that problem.

Maybe, she should be glad he would come by on Monday. She would tell him that she had no further need for him and that she would finish off the rest of the research herself. She was the Potions Mistress. It was her call!

* * *

'Draco, what is wrong? you're so absent minded, _mon petit dragon.'_

He looked into the agitated face of Delphine, who tried to look worried.

'It's nothing you have to worry about, Delphine,' he told her.

'But, Draco, you come over later every time and you don't come every weekend anymore.'

'I had business to attend to. You know I'm a busy man, Delphine.' After the morning he had had, he could do without this.

'But Draco!'

Gods, why did women always whine? His hands slid through his hair.

'But Draco _what_, Delphine?' he snapped.

'It's another woman, isn't it!' The chair fell back after she stood up abruptly.

'What! My god, what are you talking about, woman! How much free time do you think I have between my regular management at ME, working for the cause and spending time with you?'

'you're the director, you can make time. It is probably someone at work!' she stated petulantly. 'Because when you make love to me now, it is different from before!'

He snorted. So that was her earth shattering proof that he wasn't faithful; the fact that his gusto to fuck her had dwindled. It never occurred to her, that she herself might be the problem and not the fact that it was Granger who he had in mind, whenever he touched her. He doubted _she _would fake every orgasm she had. Or did not have, in fact.

_Time for damage control!_ He stood up and stalked over to where Delphine was standing, next to the window overlooking Paris. He grabbed her arms and pushed her towards the wall between the two windows. With a few choice movements he had her pinned on his cock and proceeded to grind her into the wall.

'How's that for a cheating bastard, huh, Delphine? Passionate enough for you?' He looked at the blonde woman he was pummelling into. Once he had thought her to be beautiful, but now he saw right through her superficial façade. She was grunting and moaning against his body, but he was well acquainted with her faking.

* * *

'In the coming days we once again deal a blow to the English Auror department and the Ministry of Magic. The same institution that instigated this abominable equal rights amendment nonsense. They are the reason why other governments, even our own French one, are reconsidering our ancient customs. This insanity has to stop!' Balzac paced the office where around twenty men had gathered. 'Thanks to the intelligence of our British comrades and the tireless work of our newest recruit, ' at this Balzac gestured to where he sat, 'we will be able obtain certain...'

Draco let the voice filter to the background. He had heard this tripe often enough and he didn't have to listen to it, in order to get the message. We have a right to defend ourselves, our existence is at risk. If we aren't careful, we will be overrun by filthy Mudbloods, despicable Half-bloods and Blood-traitors.'

He had other things on his mind. Like Delphine. After he had fucked her into submission against the outer wall of her apartment yesterday, he started thinking and he came to a startling conclusion. All of the sudden, he wasn't sure anymore who was hunting who anymore. Some things just did not add up when it came to that woman. It felt almost as if there was a hidden agenda behind her outburst yesterday. And what if she _was_ tracking him, making sure that he was doing what he said he did. Maybe Balzac's statement that _war was no place for witches _didn't uphold when it concerned his great-granddaughter and spying on him.

The old man was rounding up and he tuned back in to hear what they were planning to do this Sunday night.

'The second team - Thadeau Palindrône, Remi le Croix and Draco Malfoy will meet up with our informer on Sunday night around three in the morning...'

That got his attention! So, it had begun. He had to do his _job_ and go off and kill people. Innocent people. He felt the bile rise in his throat. _Don't act so innocent!_ His conscience admonished him. _It's not as if you have never killed before!_

He had, but only in the name of the Light. This time he would have to kill on the side of darkness and the knowledge that it had to be done for the greater good didn't help or made him feel any better at the prospect. Finally he understood the life his godfather had to have lived. How this must have tormented his soul!

But he would meet one of the illustrious British Neo Death Eaters. That was the breakthrough he had been hoping for.

* * *

Hermione had rehearsed her speech all Sunday and she had been sure she would have been able to make it full of confidence and poise. But she never did give her speech, because he never came.

She had waited for over an hour in the morning, before she miserably concluded that he did it again. He would fight with her, kiss her, tell her _until Monday, _leave without an further explanation and then, when Monday finally arrived, there would be no Draco!

The only good thing to come out of her frustration was the fact that she had thrown herself at her work and with much success. She had done so, until her stomach started to growl, only to discover it was already seven in the evening. She had worked straight through lunch _and_ dinner. But at this moment she had eighteen confirmed ingredients identified and according to her calculations, there were just two left! The base she – and admittedly, Draco – had brewed was so much more potent than she could have ever wished for! She was sure that tomorrow she could start working on the recipe to brew the poisonous potion, so she could start working on an antidote.

Harry had Floo'ed her from Romania the night before. The news he had to share wasn't pretty, but explained a lot about the potion. Apparently it incorporated Muggle science to make it deadly, but not to pure-blooded magical people. If it wasn't so sick, it would be rather hilarious. They were using Muggle technology to exterminate Muggleborns!

According to intelligence – Draco's, no doubt – the Neo Death Eaters were, as of now, not yet aware of the fact that they possessed a sample of their ultimate weapon. Or that she was working on breaking it.

Harry had urged her to work as hard as she could, so at least he would be glad with how her day was spent.

After Harry, she had had a little time to talk to Ginny, but the long distance connections was eating up Floo powder faster than a Goblin would take Galleons. She told her _he_ had kissed her again and after that, he left her again. Ginny didn't agree with her ideas about pushing Draco out of her life. She didn't care what Ginny thought. It was her life!

And come to think about it, Ginny to, would be glad with the way her day went, because she hadn't talked to Draco.

'You like that, don't you Crooksy? You love Mummy, don't you?' The half-Kneazle was currently washing himself after being fed a whole can of tuna. 'Glad you enjoyed it, baby. And now, Mummy is going to take a long and relaxing bath to forget all about today!' _And certain men_.

The fragrant bubbles soothed her frayed nerves. She would no longer think about Draco Malfoy. She had a much more important task ahead, the potion she had to counter. She grabbed her wand from the loo and conjured a whiteboard. Soon it was full of complex calculations.

An hour later she stood up from the bath, clean and relaxed – both body and mind - and wrapped a fluffy towel around her body. Humming a song she brushed her teeth, dried her hair with her wand and just as she was ready to walk to her bedroom to dress in her nightgown there was a crack in front of her door, which could man only one thing – apparation – and soon afterwards loud knocking.

He should have known better than to try and apparate when sloshed. It was a small miracle that he didn't splinch himself in half. But a very loud crack, testifying to the badly executed manoeuvre, would draw attention all around Granger's front door and therefore making her very angry.

Hermione was seething. For years she had been living in her apartment without ever having to worry about exposing herself as a witch to the neighbours. Until now, probably, because the tell-tale crack of a badly executed apparition would draw attention and soon.

She yanked the door open even before the knocking had ended to find out the name of the idiot, only to be startled when she found herself staring at the face of Draco Malfoy!

* * *

Ah, good, she was here! 'You're here!'

'Get in here, you idiot!' she hissed, pulling him inside. 'What are you doing here, Malfoy? My God, have you gone completely mental? '

_No, just slightly drunk!_

_ '_Do you have any idea how much noise you made? This is a Muggle area, for fuck's sake!'

'Yes, sorry about that!' he apologised.

She paced in her living room. Did she realize that she was only wearing one very short towel? Not that he cared, because it gave him a splendid view of her toned legs. He hadn't really seen them up close before. Only from a distance, when he had seen her at the swimming pool, fooling around with other men. That reminded him of his mission tonight. He opened his mouth to speak but she was faster.

'What are you doing here?'

'I told you I would see you on Monday, so why are you so surprised? Malfoy's keep their promises!'

_Why would she blush at that remark?_ He wondered.

* * *

This was starting to remind her a bit too much of her very erotic dream and that whole concept was off-limits. Maybe his coming here was a golden opportunity. She could deliver her speech and make him leave!

'Since you're here now, there are some things I would like to discuss with you concerning our working together. I have to start by thanking you for all your help and expertise. I must admit, I hadn't expected that your input would end up being so detrimental to the process, but it has been. You will be glad to know that today I have identified eighteen of the ingredients and I expect to find the last two tomorrow. So, you see, your work is done. I'm confident that I will be able to recreate the potion by the end of the week and hope to have an antidote...'

_

* * *

Oh no you don't, Granger! _ She was acting all aloof and distant, like she used to do at school. But this time he would not let her get away with it.

'Granger, I am not going anywhere!'

She started to stutter. 'What do you mean with, _I am not going anywhere?_ I'm the Potions Mistress and I'm telling you that your help is no longer needed. Or wanted.' She quickly added that last part of her statement.

'I will tell you again: I'm not going anywhere. you're stuck with me!' Gods, it was so much fun to rile her, to watch her go mental.

'You! You can't just...ferret yourself into my life...I mean... my workspace, _Malfoy_!'

'I beg to differ, _Granger_!' he bit back just as venomously.

She was silent for a bit, but then she suddenly, to his surprise, whimpered. 'Please, Draco, please. Don't do this to me! Just leave me alone, just...just don't jeopardise the entire investigation!'

* * *

Oh, Gods. This couldn't really be happening. She had never thought she would see the day that she was pleading with Draco Malfoy. For him to leave her alone, no less. But what else was she to do? He couldn't keep working with her, it would end in disaster! She would completely botch the investigation, she knew, it and that would be the end of Harry's respect, that of Master Vane and she would lose her job and...'

* * *

She seemed to have recollected herself, because this time with much more force, she told him to _please leave her alone since it was, after all, her investigation. _

'That's were you're wrong, Granger. It is _my _investigation. MINE! I'm the one who has been following them for years, trying to get into the inner circle. It is me who has invested hours upon hours and have thrown money around to get us where we are now. I'm NOT going to fail, because you are not mentally stable enough to work with the likes of me!'

'But I'm curious, Granger. Tell me, why on earth are you so adamant on not working with me any longer?'

* * *

She gasped at his question. _He did not just ask her that!_ But he did and she had and she had no answer for him. Panic rose in her body and she tried desperately to think of something to tell him.

'I'm not used to working with people around me, that's why! You distract me and if you care anything about your precious investigation, you would know that! You don't want me distracted!' _Offence was the best defence, right?_

'That is just utter tripe, Granger! That's not the reason. Tell me the truth!' he yelled at her.

That bloody bastard! Miserable, annoying, bullying git! 'What do you want to hear, _ferret?'_

'The truth would be nice, know-it-all!'

'The truth? You wouldn't even recognise the truth if it bit you in the arse! Who are you kidding?' She laughed nastily at him.

'You want to know what I think?' he goaded her. 'I think you're insecure because you're afraid that with me looking over your shoulder, the world is going to find out that you're incompetent and a complete potions fraud!'

'Have you lost your mind! I'm the second youngest Potions Mistress ever, I'm-'

'So, what is it then? If you claim it is not your incompetence to-'

'I like you. Are you happy now, huh? I'm attracted to you and I can't concentrate with you around me!' she shrieked at him.

* * *

He just stood there, smirking at her. 'It took you long enough, Granger!'

The red haze in front of her eyes cleared and she stared at him, knowing all of her feelings were leaking from her eyes for him to see.

_It took you bloody well long enough! w_as the last she heard him see before he kissed her.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Draco relished in the feeling of her mouth on his. Oh, how he needed this after the days he had had. The strain of casting Dark spells wouldn't be drowned with Firewhiskey, no matter how much of it he consumed. But her mouth, the feeling of her skin against his hands, that helped.

He cupped her face as he coaxed her lower lip with his tongue. She opened her mouth and he deepened the kiss. She tasted of mint and coupled with the towel she was wearing, he was pretty sure she had been on her way to retire for the evening.

Little mewling sounds vibrated from her mouth and fuelled his desire even more. With one hand in her hair and the other at her behind, he pushed her further against him. This was heavenly! Slowly, he let his hand slide downwards towards the hem of the towel. A shot of lust raced through him when his hand felt the naked skin of her soft arse. Massaging one of the globes, he could feel the heat radiating from between her legs. She was wet and ready for him and all he could think about was taking his rigid cock from his trousers and sliding inside her.

Hermione started to participate and he could feel her hands travelling down his chest and even further down. The tentative touches her hand made, when she encountered his cock, made him buck his hips uncontrollably.

_ '_Yes, Granger...touch me!' he urged her on.

He could hear her panting and mumbling words of encouragement herself and it was an intoxicating mix.

'Gods, Granger, you feel so fucking delicious!' he hissed, as his fingers found her swollen snatch. Over her shoulders he could see the couch and moved them there, before he would collapse on the ground.

She was so beautiful lying underneath him, moaning loudly and writhing with pleasure, enhancing the pressure his finger was giving on her protruding clit. He looked at her face, to see that she had closed her eyes and a look of utter concentration donned her blushing face.

'Gods, Granger... Do you have any idea how fucking desirable you are?' he groaned at her and he chuckled at her moan. His remark made her convulse harder around the finger he had now inserted into her. She was so hot, so wet and so incredibly tight. He didn't know how long he would be able to keep going at this slow pace.

To make matters worse she had managed to get his robes and dress shirt off of his torso and now she was sucking at his nipples.

'Granger, I'm going to fuck you so hard. Do you want to feel my hard cock in your wet pussy?' he breathed with his head bent towards her.

She was muttering incoherently into his chest. 'Oh, Gods, Draco, I want...I...argh. No, don't stop. Oh...please..._Draco_...'

Her pleading was driving him crazy. He wanted her to come, right now, with his one finger in her clenching snatch and his thumb on her sensitive clit.

'Come for me. Come for me, Hermione!' he grunted in her ear and he could feel her losing it when he called her by her given name. She tensed under him, her pussy gripping his finger so damned tight. With her arching back, bucking hips and the moaning of his name, he was getting intoxicated of just by the sight of her in his arms.

_Hermione, Hermione._ Her name echoed around his lust addled brain. He wanted more, so much more of her luscious body...

* * *

Hermione felt like she had been melted from the inside out and was relishing in the warm post-orgasmic bliss that washed over her. Draco's fingers were slowly stroking her flustered cheeks and she opened her eyes to see his beautiful grey ones, still looking so fiery. It made her shiver with renewed want.

'Hermione...'

_Oh Gods, his voice was so sexy! _But then it dawned on her that she wasn't just hearing his voice, but a a much higher and incessant one from behind the couch. She jerked up and knocked Draco to the floor. Ginny was calling her through the Floo. Hermione scrambled up to secure her almost forgotten towel around her chest.

'Ginny! Hi. I was dosing on the couch. What's going on?' She hoped Draco would stay hidden and that Ginny wouldn't notice how dishevelled she looked.

'Oh, good, you're home! I'm coming through. I want to hear all about you and Draco!' Ginny giggled.

Hermione made her way to the back of the couch, facing the Floo. She could hear Draco snickering as she started to keep Ginny from coming over. 'No, no...don't come over, Ginny, I'm going to bed in a minute!'

'Ah, Hermione, you're killing me here!' Ginny whined. 'Do you want to meet for lunch tomorrow? Then you can fill me in on all the hot gossip about that blond Adonis of yours!'

'So, what are you going to tell her about your _blond Adonis, _Hermione?' Draco asked her as he rounded the couch.

She blushed and she looked down at her feet, which of course was rather ridiculous considering what they had just done.

'Granger...Hermione.' He started to button up his shirt.

Watching him dress himself was almost too much for Hermione. _That's it_, she thought,_ that's all we'll ever have. He let me live my fantasy and now..._

His finger tilted her chin back up. 'Hermione, don't look like that. I'm not saying that this is over.' He took her hand and placed it over the bulge in his trousers. 'This is _far_ from over. But we don't have to rush things. I have had a very trying few days and I have had to much to drink. I want our first time to be perfect, not a quick rut on the couch.' He winked at her. 'Even though that is sounding more tantalizing by the minute.'

'Oh,' she muttered.

'I think we can both use a good night's sleep. I can see you're tired as well.'

He was right. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep in some days because of the heat and also because of her dreams about him.

'Oh, and Granger... Why haven't you placed a sufficient cooling charm?. This place is as hot as hell!' He smirked at her.

_Yep, he was back to his normal, annoying self! '_ I'm sure I have no idea of what you're talking about, Lord Malfoy, but I would be ever so much obliged if you would help a damsel in distress.' Grinning, she watched him cast an intricate spell and registered the immediate change in the temperature.

'So, will I see you tomorrow?'

'I'll be at the lab bright and early.' He smiled at her.

'I can't wait to show you the results.'

'I must admit, I'm very curious. And we can talk, if you want.' His hand was stroking her neck and he kissed her pulse point.

'Talk,' she parroted.

'And maybe some other things.'

He was softly kissing his way up to her mouth.

'Hmmm,' she mumbled against his mouth.

After another five minutes of saying goodbye, he left in earnest, telling her to get some rest.

With the temperature improving and the sexual tension, that had kept her on edge for days, now dissolved, she was sure that – thanks to Draco – she would sleep very well indeed.

* * *

They had just arrived back at the estate after the raid much later than expected and he was tired. Draco heard the swearing in French coming from the small gathering of men across the room. He tried not to mind them as he waited for the inevitable. He felt exhausted; his left hand was bruised and the back of his head throbbed where he had bumped it into the wall, dodging an _incarserous_ spell. The overdose of adrenaline had subsided and he knew he should feel some relief at getting out of there alive.

Potter had ordered the Aurors at the scene to only use slicing hexes as the last resort, as not to harm him, but he knew stray hexes were a common way to get a serious injury on the battlefield. The combined stress of ducking hexes, not getting captured – because his undercover gig would end right then and there – and acting aggressive enough to convince his _comrades_, without actually doing harm, had given him a quite the workout.

Closing his eyes, he rolled his neck to work out some of the tension. Peeking at the clock above the mantel he saw it was nearing six in the evening. He hadn't eaten since the night before, hadn't showered since yesterday morning and hadn't notified Granger to tell her that he would not be able to make it. She would be in a right state, when he would find her. But first he had to struggle through this debriefing, after which he was expected at the Potter residence, to update the Head Auror. He smirked, he could wriggle Potter out of giving him her address, because by the time he would be finished, she would probably no longer be at work.

The arrival of Balzac got his attention and he sat up straight in his chair. The man proceeded in questioning the different teams, assessing their level of success and punishing the failures. Stalking through the room, the large man exuded power and rage. The mission had been a cock-up – thanks to Draco's efforts – and it showed in Balzac's countenance.

His black riding boots stopped in front of a young man. It was still a boy, really, hardly any hair growth on his face and his voice crackled when he spoke. The older man started to rant, accusing the boy of incompetence and ignorance. Apparently, he had caught sight of an Auror to late and this resulted in the capture of one of Balzac's grandsons. When the older man's anger came to the zenith, he drew his wand with such astonishing speed, Draco only registered the result of the curse he shot out at it. The blond boy now lay writhing on the floor, screaming in agony. _So much for not using the old ways to keep the men in line_, he thought. As quickly as the torture started, it stopped, and Balzac was once again patrolling the perimeters of the room. Draco still watched the young boy as he stumbled to his feet, trying to determine what curse it was that had been used. He knew the old families had traditional curses and charms, unknown to the outside world. That had been one of them, he guessed.

'Master Malfoy, how did you find your first raid with us after all this time?'

The voice coming from behind him surprised him and it took all of his skills to school his features and stay composed. 'I had fun,' he drawled.

'I'm glad you did, Master Malfoy. But, do tell me, what was the most fun to you?'

The use of his formal name again set off alarm bells in his ears. 'Pardon me, sir?' he asked, deciding to play the obtuse card.

'Tell me, was it the way you danced around the battle, trying not to get hit, instead of securing the goal? Or was it, maybe, ineffectively hexing Aurors? Or, wait, was it doing your damnedest to thwart every effort you supposedly made for the cause, Master Malfoy?'

The sneering lines that were thrown at his back caused his blood to turn to ice. He had been found out! His cover had been blown. _Shit!_

Before he had the chance to reach for his wand, he heard the words that had tortured his body over and over so many times.

_Crucio!_

Draco yelled as his sweaty body shot upright in his bed. Within seconds he had adjusted his sight and realised he was - in fact - at home, in his own bed. He was safe, for now.

He lay back again, concentrating on normalising his breathing. His heart was pounding in his chest frantically and he was thanking the Gods that his dream was just that and the reality had been far different. He had danced around the battlefield, avoided damaging Aurors to extensively. Potter and he had agreed on not using hexes that were considered lethal, unless the situation would get completely out of hand.

The mission had been a success for the Neo Death Eaters, walking away with the coveted artefact and the loss of only two, minor minions. His mission had been a success as well, for he got to meet the illustrious British liaison. The fool had removed his mask on their arrival and Draco had enough time to memorize his face, before Thadeau scolded the man, causing him to put it back up. Even without his betrayal, this pawn would not survive for any length of time within an organisation as the Neo Death Eaters. He should be glad Draco was doing him the service of getting caught in the act of high treason and a one-way ticket to Azkaban.

He sighed. He should go back to sleep. He had promised Hermione that he would meet her at the lab bright and early. If he wasn't going to get some sleep, he would never be able to keep his promise.

It had taken a cold shower and getting reacquainted with his hand to get him of to sleep.

It had taken all of the will-power he could muster to leave her after the Floo call with Mrs Potter had ended. With her face pink and flustered, swollen lips and gleaming eyes, he had wanted nothing less but to throw her over his shoulders, take her to his home and never let her go again.

This thought had scared him sufficiently to take his own advice and slow down. Because; since when did he take women home?

* * *

Arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, looking completely dishevelled, had Ginny squeal with delight before Hermione could even utter a single word.

'Spill, Granger, because if _that_ is not the face of a recently snogged woman, I'm eating my shoes!'

Hermione could not contain the smile that spread over her face. She _was_ a recently snogged woman. In fact, after showing him the results and, furthermore, ascertaining the last two ingredients, Draco had thought it required some celebration. The ended up with her straddling his thighs, while he sat in the wing-backed chair in her office and they had been snogged for an hour. That little interlude had resulted in her almost being late for her lunch date.

'I just can't believe I'm doing this again,' Hermione groaned through her smile.

'What on earth are you talking about, not believing _you're doing this again_?' Ginny asked.

'This!' Hermione stated. 'Snogging and all that.'

'Why, is he no good?' Ginny looked thoughtfully puzzled.

'No, believe me, that man can snog! I meant dating again. And dating Draco Malfoy, no less!'

'Are you joking? From what Harry and I can tell, he is just as much smitten with you as you're with him!'

'Harry knows?'

'Of course. In fact, he was the one who pointed out the obvious.' She smiled indulgently, 'so stop pouting. You like him, he likes you, you're supposed to be nauseatingly happy with landing the amazing ferret!' she joked.

'I'm scared, Gin,' she whispered back.

'Why?' Hermione could hear the surprise in her friend's voice.

'Because this is going so fast and so quickly after...' She paused. 'And now I just gave my barely mended heart to Draco Malfoy. You remember what happened to it the first time, don't you?'

'He's not that boy anymore, 'Mione. He's a man now. I don't know him as well as Harry does, but I know he trusts him.'

'I know, Gin, I know. But that doesn't help with how scared I'm for getting hurt again.' She stared at the table miserably.

Ginny grabbed her by her arms. 'You listen to me, Hermione! Love isn't easy or pretty. When you fall in love and I mean really and completely fall in love with someone, it's a disaster; a train-wreck from which you can't turn away! But you need to go through that phase with open eyes and an open heart and just hope that you're one of the lucky ones. Because if you are one of them, and you find that he loves you just as much, it will all have been worth it. And you will appreciate it even more, because you had to fight to get it!'

Hermione looked at Ginny with her mouth ajar. 'My God,' was all she managed to utter.

'Yes, well, don't tell anybody that I just told you that. We don't want the world to think I'm some sappy romantic, do we?'

Hermione shook her head.

'Good. Ready to order?'

After Ginny's curiosity had been satisfied, about how it all happened and _what_ had actually happened – which Hermione wasn't going to tell - they ate. She thought about the passionate speech Ginny had given and decided she was right. She had to give Draco and _them_ a chance, take a risk and just hope for the best. There was no such thing as guarantees in matters of the heart.

But the fact that he knew her so well, especially as he knew which buttons to press to get her worked up - it scared her. It was nice to know he understood her, but she was all too aware that he would also use this against her, if he thought it was necessary.

* * *

Wednesday afternoon saw Draco walk Hermione to the elevators before disillusioning himself he could not be seen at the upper levels. Draco went to stand behind her, ensuring no-one would bump into him. Before long they were joined by others and this pushed Hermione farther back. Draco took the opportunity to taunt her by kissing her lightly on the back of her neck. When his hands started stroking her breasts, she thought she would die of suffixation, afraid that people around her would hear her panting at his touch.

'Breathe, Granger. I like my women alive and kicking!' he whispered into her ear.

He snaked his arm around her waist and opened some buttons. Soon his fingers sipped into her knickers and she knew he would find her wet.

'Naughty, naughty, Granger. I do think you quite like this. Very kinky!' he purred with a low voice.

Scared to death that someone would notice, she still could not contain herself and she ground her backside against his erection, eliciting a moan from his mouth. When no-one around them reacted to the sound, she understood he had somehow silenced his voice from all others. _The sneaky git!_

By the time the elevator came up to the top floor, she felt like she had been transformed into a puddle of lust and frustration. Before sealing the lab off, he had told her that he would not be able to see her during the week due to responsibilities at ME and the investigation. He told her he had to go to France for the rest of the week, to tie up some loose ends. He would probably return Sunday night, at the earliest.

She had felt disappointed, but she understood. He was an undercover agent and that meant he had a completely different life to uphold - a different reality. She had wondered briefly what kind of person he was in that reality and if he would be anything like the boy she new at Hogwarts, but in an _all grown up _edition.

* * *

The rest of the week went by in a haze. She worked like a madwoman to decipher the potion and had significant breakthrough on Wednesday. Every morning a Dicto-card awaited her with a coffee, croissant and a beautiful pink rose. On Wednesday she went by the Potters to tell Harry about the breakthrough and to catch up with Ginny and bemoan her bad luck at having to go without Draco until Sunday.

Harry had been chuffed at her discovery of the exact recipe of the potion. Practically smelling the finish line, Hermione had taken up brewing to deep into the night. It was showing and both Harry and Ginny expressed their concern, but she would have none of it.

'The sooner I finish, the faster you can safely round up those bastards, Harry. Besides, getting Draco back from them is a big incentive as well,' she smirked.

Harry understood her motivation and he told her so. 'I hope it will finally give him the peace he has been searching for. He deserves it!'

Hermione just nodded, believing her best friend's word.

* * *

It was Friday evening, around nine, when the door to her lab creaked open. She didn't even notice at first, she was to busy checking the liquid that was swirling around in a golden cauldron. The yellow metal was a flaming red colour at the base and the fumes emitting from I, had turned Hermione's hair into a frizzled mess on top of her head. She was sure this would be it! Just one ingredient left to put into the boiling concoction and it would be ready for testing. Well, after it had cooled off.

Draco saw her put in whole Foeniculum vulgare seeds, the greenish pips dissolving with a puff of smoke as soon as they hit the surface of the potion. He wondered what she had found out for her to use specifically those seeds. He knew they brought relief concerning respiratory disorders and acid reflux of the stomach, which made sense of course, because the potion seemed to induce a massive production of stomach acid. In fact, the potion induces acid on such a level of acidity it quickly dissolved the stomach and subsequently the rest of the internal organs. He had seen the remains of the first victim and was still haunted by that mental picture.

Seeing the potion turn a pure, pearly white; she squealed, jumped up and started to clap her hands. It worked! At least, it ended up as she had calculated it should and therefore she was tentatively prepared to hope that this would be the cure and the protection needed to counter the blasted poison fabricated by those bigots. A celebration dance was in order!

She was happy! And he had to admit, he liked it when she was happy, certainly in this case. It meant she had achieved a breakthrough _and _he got to see her dance. Even in her bulky robes the view on her swirling backside made him hard. Quietly, he took enough steps to be standing right behind her.

'Happy much, Granger?'

Twirling around, she almost knocked him over the head. But the ecstatic expression on her face made up for the attempt on his life.

'You're here! Oh, you're right on time, too! I think I have solved it!' Her eyes shone with happiness.

'I noticed,' he drawled. 'But, let's see then.'

After hearing her explanation of the ingredients she used for the potion, he had to agree with her, it sounded as if this would be the cure.

'How are you going to test it, though?' He wanted to know.

'I'll test it on myself. After all, I am a prospected target,' she said flippantly.

'Have you gone around the bend, Hermione? What if it doesn't work, have you thought about that?' He was shaking her firmly. Maybe it would put back some sense back into her.

'Of course I have. That's why I'm testing it on a sample of my blood, you wanker! Gods...men.' She wormed herself loose from him and walked back to pick up a small vial containing a red liquid.

'Do you want any of mine to compare with?' he asked.

She nodded, smiling at him.

Ten minutes later they were standing at a workbench with microscopes and other testing equipment.

She looked nervous and so was he. If this worked, it would mean they could start initiate the last phase of the investigation and bring the whole lot in. Briefly, he let his mind entertain what a world would look like without the Neo Death Eaters to track and suss out. It had been such an integral part of his life for so long.

Hermione's voice got his attention back at the mission at hand, and that was to test the potion. Very precisely, she dropped little dots of her blood on several glass dishes. She did the same with his blood and he was once again surprised at the similarity between their blood. It underlined that utter idiocy of the archaic beliefs he had grown up with; believing she would have brown blood, like the Mudblood she was supposed to be. Her wand made an intricate movement and simultaneously the poison was mixed in with their blood.

He was appalled to see the violent reaction the poison had on her blood. A bloody, red froth filled up her dish to the brim, hissing viscously. Another set of movements deposited the antidote in the dishes. There was an immediate reaction noticeable in the dish containing Hermione's blood and gradually it turned back to normal.

She placed it under the microscope and they could see the poison being pushed out of the blood. Tiny black droplets formed and then little white ones.

'They antidote should now start to adhere to the poison.' Hermione gazed intently at the process, 'and dissolve.'

To his surprise, it did just that.

Giddy with the success of the first try, they tested other dishes with her blood. They also put several of the dishes with his blood under the microscope. They could see his blood and the poison, swirling around each other, but not mixing.

They had done it! _She _had done it! His brilliant Hermione! He picked her up around the waist and spun her around. She threw her head back and laughed like a child and he joined her.

'Granger, tell me, are you once again not wearing any clothes beneath these robes?'

She could feel herself colouring. 'How do you know-'

'I'm a spy, darling, I have my methods,' he drawled. 'But are you? Wearing clothes, I mean.'

_She was not dignifying that question with an answer!_

_ '_'I take it that your lovely colour is answer enough. Let's get you home then, I'm taking you out tonight!'

_

* * *

He was taking her out! S_he yelled in her mind.

If Draco would have let her do her thing, they would have been finished within the hour. However, he thought it was his prerogative to meddle with everything. From her choice of shower gel – in the end he stepped in with her to make sure she used the right one – to the lingerie she would wear.

He rummaged through her drawer, when she tended to her hair. He finally picked two outfits: a white corset top made of soft satin with a pair of frilly knickers and the other outfit was a soft green body made of lace. He made her model them both, twice, and he still couldn't choose.

She could. The frilly knickers would look ridiculous beneath the pencil skirt he had chosen for her to wear with the tailored blouse. She'd never thought of combining the two, but, she had to say, paired with black pumps, she looked very nice.

'Some day soon, Granger, you're going to have to tell how this lingerie fascination of yours started!' he told her.

Draco took her to a little restaurant in Muggle London. It was owned by Mr and Mrs Lonini, a Squib couple. Though most of their clientele was made up of Muggles, the witch or wizard looking for a little anonymity knew where to find it too.

'They have the best pasta in London. Well,' he grinned, 'the part I know of. Maybe you could take me to your favourite pasta restaurant next time and we can compare.'

She loved pasta and she told him he had a deal, while grinning back at him. Something told him that she was taking this challenge very seriously. He picked up her hand and started kissing her fingers, one by one.

'Hmmm. I say, they also serve the best appetizers here.'

She swatted at him, but let him have her fingers nonetheless.

* * *

Had Draco been paying attention to his surroundings, like he had done religiously over the past years, he would have noticed the two pairs of eyes that were watching him and Hermione from the dark, from the minute they had started to do so. As it was, those eyes followed them to her house, to the restaurant and even into the establishment, before Draco felt something wasn't right. He had been so caught up in her, relishing in her smile and laughter and gazing into her eyes which held promises to a bright future, without the constant threat of the Neo Death Eaters and them finding out where his true allegiance lay, that he had let his guard down.

After ordering their main courses, he somehow couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Hermione noticed he was getting agitated and asked what was wrong. He tried to side-track her, but that didn't work. He realised that, although her skills hadn't been honed even further after the war, she was no stranger to these kinds of situations.

'I can't put my finger on it, but it feels like we're being watched.' He kept his voice soft and low, to avoid being overheard.

She laughed, as if he had made a joke. 'Can you pin-point it?' She let her gaze flow around her.

He laughed back at her and grabbed her hand once more. 'It feels is if it is coming from my left, but I'm not sure.'

Hermione tilted her head, flirting with him, but he could see her eyes roam the area he had mentioned.

'There is just one elderly couple seated there and I don't see anything out of the ordinary at the other tables.'

Soon after, the feeling subsided, but Draco thought it prudent to take her home anyway.

'Well, that certainly was an exiting end to an exiting day!' Hermione smiled at Draco, who was sitting on her couch, drinking an espresso.

'I hadn't planned on letting it end this soon, though.' He matched his voice to the petulant look he was giving her.

'You hadn't? You're making me curious, Malfoy.' She teased.

'For one, I had planned on taking you dancing. I mean, I saw you dancing at Potters inauguration party, in his kitchen and even in your labs. But I have as of yet, not had the pleasure to dance with you and that was going to change this night...'

Quickly, she stood up and walked to one of the cabinets which lined the wall and soon the soft sounds of Dido filled the room. She stood in front of Draco and offered him her hand. 'Would you like to have a dance?' she asked, smiling shyly. _She didn't want the evening to end either._

She was swaying lightly in his arms, her eyes closed and her cheek resting on his collarbone. She still had a hard time believing that this was actually real, that she was dancing – slow dancing – with Draco Malfoy, in her living room. She stifled a giggle, but she also couldn't deny the feeling all the same, that this – whatever it was she had with Draco – was going fast. She prayed to whatever deity was listening to her, that it would not end up at heartbreak for her again.

'What are you thinking about, Hermione?' he asked as his hand drew slow circles on her back.

'That you can't break my heart again,' she answered truthfully.

'I never broke your heart before.'

'Yes, you did. I fancied the hell out of you up until second year. I watched you, especially in Potions. I loved to watch your hands work.' She snickered at the memory and felt her face blush at sharing it with him.

'What made you stop?'

'You called me... Do you remember when Ron's hex backfired, the one with the slugs?'

He hummed his acknowledgement.

'Do you also remember why he did that? What you called me?'

The stiffening of his spine didn't go unnoticed. 'Oh.'

'I never knew I was the reason you liked Potions class as much as you did.'

She laughed.

'So, you watched my hands?' His hands were now making luxurious massaging motions at her waist and shoulders.

'I did.'

'Even when we were older?' Gods, his voice was getting huskier.

'Especially when we were older.'

'Did you fantasize about me doing this to you?' he asked her, as her as he leisurely pulled the blouse out of her skirt. His warm hands were on her lace covered skin instantaneously, making her feel even more heated.

'Yes.' She rubbed herself against his chest.

'And how about this?' he wanted to know. He turned her around so her back was pressed to his front. She let her head fall back, revelling in the feeling of his hands travelling over to her stomach, as he pulled even more of the blouse out of her skirt.

'Or this?' he whispered in her ear, his hands gliding towards her breasts. The pinching of her nipples made her moan desperately.

He had removed her blouse completely and his hands were everywhere, just like his mouth. He nipped at her sensitive ears and just below them on her neck. He followed that path further down and licked at her pulse point, making her writhe against his erection lasciviously. She could hear his breathing picking up speed and she smirked at the thought that she was doing that to him. She turned back in his arms to face him and looked deep into his eyes. Again, they looked like molten metal - hot and liquid.

'I want you!' he growled at her.

That declaration made her quim throb with need and she rubbed her thighs together. The smirk on his face told her he had seen and that he knew all to well what he was doing to her. Inch by inch he bent towards her and her wait was rewarded by his searing mouth, tasting her. They both groaned in each other's mouths as the kiss deepened and Hermione clung on him as if she was in danger of drowning in the sensations he evoked.

His swift lift, that had her straddling his hips, made her yelp. His hands massaged her arse, as he pushed her tighter against his cock.

'Where's your bedroom?' His voice sounded thick with lust.

With her hands touching his face where she could, kissing him along the same path, she told him _the second door on the left._

Clad in only her lace body stocking, she lay there, watching how he unbuttoned his green dress shirt. Each tiny button got pushed through the hole in the fabric. Her tongue kept wetting her lips, but it was no use, the sight of his pale chest coming into view ever so slowly, had her panting. Years of Quidditch and gruelling Auror training had chiselled his chest into Grecian perfection. His torso was proportionately perfect and his pecks were dusted with fine hairs. He pushed open his shirt to reveal his rosy nipples and her eyes followed his hand trailing down his stomach to his trousers. Swallowing got more difficult by the minute and she just wished he would stop playing with her already.

'Touch yourself, Hermione; show me how much you want me.'

She shivered at the thought, but acquiesced, letting her hands travel from her panting mouth and across her aching breasts to her dripping quim. Gingerly, she pushed the fabric at of knickers aside and rubbed her finger between her nether lips. He must be able to see her fingers glistening already, because she could feel it oozing out of her.

'Oh my God, Granger, that's it. Show me your snatch. Oh, you have no idea how I have longed to have you show it to me. After I bumped into you in that ridiculous negligee at the Potters, that sweet pussy has been on my mind every day.' He was also panting when he confided in her and his voice and words were turning her on even more.

By now he had discarded the last of his clothing and he stood at the foot of the bed, his cock jutting out proudly as he looked down on her while she played with herself and showed him her swollen quim. This was getting too much and she knew that she would climax in a matter of seconds, just having his eyes trained on her like that.

As if he had read her mind, he crawled onto the bed, taking her hand and sucking lustfully at her cum covered fingers.

'Mm. You taste divine, Granger.'

She should have been shocked. But her lust addled brain didn't care anymore. She just wanted him, in any way!

* * *

She looked glorious, draped across her bed with her legs opened wide and her fingers massaging her swollen nether lips. Every so often she gave him a peak of the entrance to her snatch and it looked swollen and moist. He clearly remembered her climaxing around his fingers and he knew for certain that it would be a snug fit. The urban legend of a woman becoming loser with age – or usage – was just that, he knew, and he was looking forward to fucking that tight quim for a very long time.

As he sucked the cum off her fingers, he could see her pupils dilate. When he told her she tasted divine, a flicker of embarrassment crossed her eyes.

'Don't tell me that you have never been eaten out, Granger.'

Her furious blush was answer enough. 'Oh, I'm so going to enjoy being the first to lick your wet pussy, Granger, and I'm going to make you come all over my face.'

As she pulled the body over her head, he positioned himself between her legs. Gently kissing her thighs, he waited for her tense body to relax. When she did, he gently started to lick next to her labia. A sigh escaped her mouth and he could just make out that she was pressing her head back into the pillow. He smirked. _He hadn't even started yet! _

His hands were at her hips, preventing her from bucking too fiercely as she lay on her bed, panting and mumbling incoherently, while he kept licking and sucking at her swollen clit and nether lips. She really did taste divine and he relished in the constant flow of her moisture. He let his tongue slide up between her lips and positioned his tongue underneath her clit. This was not too much for her and she started moving with abandon, trying to find release from the tension he knew was building in her.

He closed his eyes and listened to her moaning and mewling, as she rode his tongue. The pitch of her voice kept rising and he knew she was getting close. He wished he could tell her to come, to command her to do so, as he had done a few nights ago. Instead, he inserted a finger into her cramping pussy and then another to make sure he would fit. With the first movement his digits made, she came with a deafening shriek. Her body shook with pleasure as she rode her climax out against his mouth and on his fingers.

With Hermione still in obvious bliss he went to sit back on his haunches and stroked his pulsating cock. She was wet, ready and totally open to him and he just waited for her to open her eyes. He wanted to look at her when he would slide his cock into her for the first time. When she finally did open them, his breath caught in his throat. _This is what a succubus looks like! _

'Are you ready for me, Hermione?'

'Yes,' she panted.

With his hands underneath her arse, he lifted her up to his cock. He tilted his pelvis and slid the head of his cock between her slick folds. Once again he let their eyes meet and he loved the way she gazed back at him as he slowly slid home. With a grunt, she closed her eyes as soon as she felt his scrotum hit her arse and he followed suit.

'My God, Hermione, you're so hot.'

She couldn't believe how incredibly thick he was. She felt stretched beyond anything she had ever felt before. With his balls hitting her arse and the tip of him pressing against her cervix, she felt utterly topped off. Instead of moving out of her, he chose to press his pelvis more snugly against her already sensitive clit and she yelped. She heard him laugh, but his breath caught as he slid out of her, only to repeat the downwards movement immediately.

* * *

'My God, Hermione, you're so hot,' she heard him grunt, making her internal muscles clamp on him.

He moaned. 'And tight! I never thought you would be so tight!' Somehow she liked knowing that.

With this last remark, the conversation ended and he took up moving in earnest. Soon he had her babbling incoherently, and again and she felt her body tense and heat up further, as another orgasm approached. The sounds he made and the dirty words he whispered to her, as he kept pounding his cock into her, drove her mad. She loved watching him, his head tossed back and his blond hair plastered on his sweaty face, as his muscles worked beneath his flustered skin.

'Oh Gods, _Draco_,' she moaned as he adjusted his angle and was hitting her sweet spot.

'Fuck, Granger, I love fucking you! I can feel you clenching me, baby!'

And she was, with every thrust she felt herself moving closer to the edge.

'Come for me, Hermione! Come now!' His voice rumbled from his chest and she did!

He could feel she was close, the way she kept kneading and sucking at his cock. This was unbelievable and he wanted it to last for ever, but the tightening in his balls let him know that – unfortunately – that would not be the case. He wanted her to come; he wanted to feel her convulsing around him as he shot his seed in her. He commanded her to come and she did. The overwhelming feeling of both her compliance with his command _and_ the sensation of her body climaxing around him, pushed him over the edge too. He felt shot after shot of hot sperm shooting out of his cock into her cramping snatch and he moaned loudly, knowing he was calling her name, like she was calling his.

* * *

It took him some seconds to realise where he was and to register the booming sounds around him. Besides him, a very naked Hermione awoke with a start. With eyes as big as saucers, she stared at him confounded, and he could see she was trying to make sense of the situation.

'Shit!' she shrieked all of the sudden. 'Someone is trying to break through my wards!'

In a flurry of limbs he shot out of bed, looking for his clothes and more importantly, his wand. With one leg in his trousers he heard the front door being blown to bits. From the corner of his eye he saw Granger slipping on a pair of knickers and a shift dress. He had just seconds to shout the charm to conjure up a corporal patronus, relaying the message for Potter to the wispy dragon, when all hell broke loose.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The pounding in his head woke Draco up to darkness. He fumbled around trying to get his bearings, but all he could feel was cold stone. As he got more lucid, he also noticed considerable pain to his body. He sat back down, leaning against a wall. With his left hand he massaged around his eyes and tried to remember what had happened.

The last thing he remembered was waking up next to Hermione and... The memories came rushing back. He had been duelling in Hermione's apartment!

They had been woken up by a loud booming noise and Hermione had shrieked that this sound was telling her the wards were being broken. They had rushed to get some clothes on and had just managed to do so – wand at the ready – when three forms came bursting through the bedroom door. He recognized the uniform immediately, Neo Death Eaters, _Fuck!_

Curses and hexes were flying around his ears in a matter of seconds. Holes were shot into walls and the bed exploded in a multitude of feathers. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione casting hexes and simultaneously placing shielding charms around herself. He had no time to admire her skill because he had his assailants to occupy himself with.

Just as he thought he was getting the upper hand in his fight, two more of those bastards had arrived. Five too two, that was impossible. _Where the hell is Potter!_ his mind screamed.

He had managed to lure three of the assailants back to the living room. There was a big, gaping hole were once stood her front door and he wondered why none of the neighbours were coming over to make sure everything was alright. His puzzlement must have been visible on his face.

'A very strong containment spell, if you must know.' The smallest of the Neo Death Eaters shouted at him from across the room. He had noticed this _comrade _ kept out of the fighting. That voice, he thought as he dodged another slicing hex. It had something familiar to it and it wasn't male either.

Suddenly, he noticed he was no longer fighting against two, but just the one Neo Death Eater, with the occasional interference of the lone figure. That meant that Hermione was currently duelling with three men. He knew she wouldn't survive that onslaught in such cramped surroundings. Circumspectly he tried to make his way back to the bedroom where he had left Granger. He had to help her and keep them going until Harry bloody Potter would arrive with back-up.

Just as he reached the doorway and shouted to Hermione, he felt a curse hit him. He screamed out in pain and the next thing he knew, he woke up here, wherever that may be?

After stumbling around the room, he was unable to locate a door. _Magically sealed, _he figured. He didn't find Hermione anywhere in the room either and that worried him more. He still wasn't sure what had happened. Had they somehow found out he was a spy? But why go after him with Hermione around? Or was Hermione the actual target and did he just get in the way? He cursed at his own stupidity. He should have listened to his instincts when he sensed eyes on them, instead of listening to his hormones.

Now he could only sit and wait what cards he would be dealt. He just hoped his message had actually reached Potter, so their rescue party would already be in full swing.

Without day light he had no idea how long he had been sitting on the ground, when he heard the distinctive click of a lock being turned. Since he wasn't sure from which direction he was to expect company, he stood in the middle of the room and tried to use his hearing to locate the direction the threat would be coming from.

'My, my, aren't we edgy?' He recognized the same voice he had heard during the battle. It was slightly deformed, but still sounded oddly female.

'Yes, rather strange, don't you agree,' he drawled. 'since I'm surrounded by amenities and luxury in abundance.'

His scathing remark was rewarded with a stinging hex and although Draco could have gone without the pain, the short flash of the hex briefly afforded him the chance to see around him and, more importantly, see who was attacking him.

He had been right at guessing his assailant was a woman. The skirt stretching along her legs as she she stood in an offensive stance to cast the hex. He also got a brief glance of the room around him. It was square, about 3 foot in diameter and built from rugged looking, grey stone. They were the kind of stones used to build the lower floors of a grand houses, like Malfoy Manor. He needed to have a longer look at the stone to determine what they were made of and the way the bricks had been laid. It would tell him more about the era the house was built in and maybe even were house stood. He would have to taunt the woman again. _Let's hope she just keeps using stinging hexes._

'I would like to thank my hostess for the hospitality, but since there is no lady present here, I will just have you convey my appreciation.'

_Bugger! _The hex stung more now that his body was tensed in preparation. But he had managed to keep his eyes open and had concluded that – indeed – the stones were limestone. His guessed this house had been built in the late seventeen hundreds, somewhere in the South, judging by the masonry. As he let his fingers slide across the wall, he stumbled over something.

'Sit!' The voice barked at him.

He took a seat on the object, which turned out to be a stool.

'Do you know why you're here?'

'I don't even know where _here_ is, shall we start at that?' he asked flippantly.

'If you keep provoking me, Master Malfoy, I will soon start using something stronger than a stinging hex.' The voice spoke to him from the dark.

But it wasn't the voice, but the words that were spoken, that rattled him. She had called him _Master Malfoy _and wasn't a title that was used that often. The last person to have done so, was Balzac Palindrône. Well at least that seemed to answer one of his questions, because apparently he was the designated target.

'Yes, I know Balzac is very fond of using my title, but amongst _comrades_ I prefer Malfoy,' he said.

After this remark it remained silent for some time.

'It seems you have steered away from you _comrades_ in your recent exploits, though, Malfoy!' The voice sneered.

He did not care for the accusing tone. He also realized that this conversation would probably determine how this situation would play out.

'you're aware I cannot divulge all my workings for the cause, don't you?'

'I'm well aware of that, _Malfoy,' _the voice spat. 'But please, enlighten me; why on earth it's necessary for you to _fuck _a filthy _Mudblood? _Aren't you betrothed to Delphine Palindrône?'

His mind reeled with the information he was receiving, frantically trying to make sense of it all.

'I'm, as of yet, not betrothed to Mademoiselle Palindrône, but I'm certain she will fully understand what has to be done to reach our goal. I'm confident that she will trust me when I tell her that these acts I had to perform with the filthy Mudblood whore, were merely that, _acts, _in order to get information out of her. 'He prayed to the Gods that Hermione, where ever she was, did not hear him utter these words.

'I can assure you, Mademoiselle Palindrône will not believe you. Though, I dare say, the stupid Mudblood will.'

The light that suddenly shone had him blinking furiously. When he managed to focus, he was confronted with a moving image of Hermione. She was sitting on a filthy mattress, in a room probably similar to his and she was looking straight at him, although she seemed to look right through him.

Now he could also hear sounds with the images. A cold voice was telling Hermione all about his relationship with Delphine. He saw her blanch and started to deny what was being told. She shook her head and told the man he was lying! But when pictures of him and Delphine – even in sexual positions - were shown on the wall, she crumbled. He could see her face turning white from the force with which she was clenching her jaws in order to hold back her tears, but it was no use and soon she was sobbing.

'Fuck!' he gasped. He completely forgot his surroundings at seeing Hermione's heart being broken.

'Why do you say that, Malfoy? Fuck! Do you care what the Mudblood thinks?'

His eyes stilled on the woman in front of him. This was all going pear shaped so fast, his mind could hardly keep up, but he had to keep a cool head if they were going to make it out of this alive.

'I said _fuck,_ you dimwit, because I have been working on getting on her good side for ages and I assure you that Mademoiselle Palindrône will-'

'Silence!' Her words bounced off the wall and she moved her arms towards her head and she simultaneously removed the mask and hood she was wearing. She turned her icy blue eyes on him and shook her blonde hair to fall over her shoulders.

'I do _not_ believe you, Malfoy! Or should I call you _mon petit dragon_?'

Draco closed his eyes. _Fuck!_

* * *

The second time he woke up in the room, it was once again dipped in darkness. His head was pounding and he felt crusts of dried up blood crack on his face as he moved to sit up straight.

As soon as Delphine had seen the recognition in his eyes, her attack had begun. She had pushed against his mental walls, with a force he hadn't expected her to possess. Her frustration at his Occlumency made her use curses on him as she kept trying to probe him further.

Screaming at him and demanding answers soon made him realised that this was just a one-woman revenge mission. She had no knowledge of his spying and no idea of the potion that awaited approval from Potter, before it would be taken into mass-production. This was merely a woman scorned.

Somehow though, this didn't placate him. It actually scared the living shit out of him! Because the saying "Hell hath no fury, like a woman scorned!" appeared to have been thought of by someone intimately acquainted with Mademoiselle Palindrône and her temper.

* * *

The third time Draco awoke in the room, it had been from sleeping. The room was no longer dark and the light that was shining made him blink. Grunting he stood up and shielded his eyes with his hand.

'What the fuck, Delphine? What is it now? You're coming to inspect the damage you have done?'

Her lean body blocked the light behind her and it appeared as if there was a halo around her. Dressed in her red robes and black cloak she looked like an avenging angel.

'Do you want to know what I have come to realise these past three days?'she asked.

_Fuck! Three days! Where the hell is Potter? _

'And what might that be?'

'You don't love me like I should be loved! _You_ are no good for me!' Her finger waved admonishingly in front of his nose.

_And so you're letting me and Hermione go?_

'And you have to pay for that, _mon petit dragon. _You will have to pay for your betrayal and for abusing _ma povre coeur.'_

_ You don't even have a heart, you crazy bitch!_

'And I thought to myself, Delphine, how will you make him suffer like you have been suffering? And it came to me! I'm going to take your heart and kill it! 'Her eerie giggle made his skin crawl.

'What do you mean, you're going to kill my heart?'

'I'm going to kill what you love and apparently that is your Mudblood whore.'

Hearing this sent Draco into a frenzy. He jumped up and attacked her, but before his fist could even make contact with the haughty face of his former lover, she had wiped him against the wall with a dark curse that sprung from her wand.

'Do _not_ tempt me, _ma petit dragon_,' she seethed. 'Now, get up and walk!' She pointed at the door.

As he walked through the hallway with the limestone walls, he thought about his reaction to Delphine's words. He had never before raised his hand at a woman in anger and he had never before entertained the idea of loving a woman either.

He approached the stairwell and knew he would have to pay attention if he was going to have even the slightest chance of escaping. After that, he could think about whether or not he was in love.

His eyes darted around, taking in all of his surroundings, picking up on clues as to where they were being held. He noticed the archway at the top of the stairwell had a keystone made from rosy Purbeck stone. The room beyond the stairwell was clad with wooden panels and no masonry was exposed. Delphine's wand pushed between his shoulder blades kept him walking at a steady pace and because the room offered him no further clues, he kept his eyes in front of him.

'Turn right here,' she ordered.

When he did, he entered the grand entrance hall. The double doors on his left had two windows above them and he could see the faint light of dawn pour through.

She stopped him and they stood in the middle of the room as Delphine started to yell in French. From the stairs situated in the corner of the room came two men. They were in full Neo Death Eater regalia and dragged an unconscious Hermione behind them.

'What have you done to her!' he screamed before he could think to hold his tongue.

'Oh, don't worry! She lives,' she cooed. '_Reneverate,_' she shouted.

He could see she was coming to, but it was taking her too bloody long for his liking. The blood smears and blue circles under her eyes told him everything he needed to know, she had been tortured. He saw that her eyes had a hard time focussing and from time to time her body would be wrecked by tremors.

'It seems your little Mudblood whore has had experience with _Crucio_. It took us a little to get her to scream.' Delphine's voice sounded insulted. 'But in the end, she did scream and she resplendent! Really, you should be proud.'

'You bloody bitch! I'm going to _kill_ you!' he bellowed.

Delphine turned around and pointed her wand between his eyes.

'Tut-tut-tut, _ma petit dragon, _you really should not yell at the woman with the wand. I might... 'She twirled around and cast a _Crucio _on Hermione. Draco roared as he saw Hermione wreck on the shining floor. She was going to kill her by _Crucio_ and have him watch, while her guards restrained him!

'Now look what you made me do! Silly me, I'm so clumsy. But don't fret! I will not kill her right now, I want to enjoy killing her off.'

'Just do it, you cowardly inbred lowlife,' Hermione hissed through her teeth. Her blood frothed at the corners of her mouth and dripped onto the yellow dress that was already full of stains.

'Silence!' the mad woman cried out. 'I have had enough of this shit! Do you forget who I am? I'm Mademoiselle Palindrône! I'm of French wizarding royalty and my family tree goes back centuries. And you!' she pointed her wand at Hermione,' You dare to call me an_ inbred lowlife?_ You are nothing, 'she spat,' useless and an abomination! We will rid the world of your filth and we will do this in style!'

'No doubt! Using _Crucio _is all the fashion and _so _very sophisticated,' Hermione taunted.

Draco couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. She was marvellous even when she stared death in the face. Delphine shrieked in indignation and he knew she had never been spoken to in such a manner.

'No! I'm not killing you with a curse or a hex... I'm going to poison you!'

As he heard these words fall from Delphine's mouth, his blood drained from his face and he could see the similar reaction in Hermione's. _Fuck! _ They both knew precisely which potion Delphine was referring to. It was the potion they had been researching for the past couple of weeks. The one that she had just created an antidote to. The antidote they didn't have on them!

Delphine seemed unaware of the look shared between Draco and Hermione and ranted on.

'This little gem is what is going to kill off all of you Mudbloods! 'She produced a small vial from her robes. 'Isn't it wonderful? We will use the distributing network of Malfoy Enterprises to get it everywhere. Thank you for that opportunity, _chéri!' _She smiled at him. 'My great-grandfather devised this plan and it is brilliant! It will be a bit harder to pull of, now that you're going to be permanently _detained_, but I think I can pull off impersonating you with the help of PolyJuice!' She walked up to Hermione who was still down on her knees on the floor. 'Don't you agree with me that this is rather sophisticated? I do think so, you know. But enough about that, you will not live to see it, Mudblood. Well, maybe you will – technically – still be alive.' Delphine said to Hermione, kneeling besides her. 'You see, especially for you I have made a slight modification in the potion. It's very innocent really, I've just omitted the Tempus berries. I know ! you're dying to know what that means, but I'm keeping that a surprise for you and your lover.' _She sounded as deranged as Bellatrix had done, sing-songing death threats,_ he thought.

He realized that the Tempus berries would have something to do with the timing of the potion, although he had no idea to what extent. In Hermione eyes he saw that she knew what it meant and he hoped it was positive news.

It was an unpleasant surprise to learn from Delphine's speech that she was the creator of the killing potion. His research had not unearthed that and instead it had portrayed her as a airhead débutante.

Airhead or not, she was going to kill Hermione and he had to do something! He carefully eyed the two guard dogs who were now standing at his left. They weren't looking at him and maybe he could... Who was he kidding? Even though he was trained as an Auror and he knew different martial arts, he could not single handedly take on three assailants, certainly not since they all had wands.

He had to do something and save here or at least get the potion destroyed. He needed to buy time and give Harry a chance to come and play hero.

He bolted from his place, right at Delphine and managed to throw her over.

'Run! Hermione, run!' he screamed.

But it was no use, because as Hermione got to a wobbly stand she was already apprehended by one of the men. The other had him dangling above the floor with a hand in his neck. Delphine stood up and she was looking furious and now there were a string of French curse words spilling from her mouth.

'You will pay for that!' she spat. 'you're going to die with her now, right here, you bastard!' She glared at him with so much hatred that he felt his blood curdle in his veins. The stabbing motion her wand made surprised him. The pain was instantaneous and soared through his body. It wasn't the _sectumsempra_ curse Potter had once used on him. Were as that had felt like the slashing of a sword, this resembled the stabbing of a dagger. He clenched his hand to his abdomen and could feel the blood trickling out as he dropped to his knees. He doubled over in pain and through his hair he could see Delphine pouring the potion into Hermione's throat.

'No!' he tried to scream, but it came out a mere whisper.

Delphine kneeled onto the ground next to him.

'you're a disgrace to your name, Malfoy and a disgrace to pure-bloods everywhere. I hadn't planned on actually killing you yet, but you deserve no less, blood traitor!' She stood up again. 'You can stay here, with your precious Mudblood whore! You can watch her die, watch her dissolve and then you can die yourself!'

'You may have won this battle, Delphine, but don't think you're going to win the war!' he shouted after her as she closed the double doors to the house.

Groaning he stood up and walked over to where Hermione was lying.

'Granger! Granger, wake up!' She looked at him bleary eyed. 'Granger, tell me, what is the effect of the modification?'

'The timing has been changed.' She coughed up blood.

'Has it sped up...'

'No, it has slowed down. Instead of ten minutes, it will take ten hours. The process will follow the same track, but much slower,' she slurred.

'That's good, isn't it? That leaves us time to make a plan! We can escape! Hell, I'll even opt for being rescued by the perpetual hero,' he laughed. _That was the best news he had heard in days. _

'Not better, Draco, only slower and more painful.'

He looked at her, the small woman laying in his arms. Her words sunk in. She would suffer and she would do so for ten hours before... He couldn't think about that! He had to do something!

_Think, Draco, think!_ Her only chance was to get her the antidote. To get that, they had to find a way to either leave on their own accord, or be rescued.

He got up, carefully positioning her on the floor and walked to the door. He figured Delphine would have locked and warded them, but he could try. His hand received a painful stinging hex when he tried to open the door. Next, he walked up to the staircase, but as soon as he tried to take the first step, he got hexed and he flew backwards. At the windows he got the same treatment, however he did manage to remove the heavy curtains obscuring them. Looking out, he could see some sort of park. There was a lot of grass and mature trees. Squinting his eyes he could also see a large tower. _A church tower, possibly even a cathedral, judging by the size._

He walked back towards Hermione. She was breathing shallowly and her eyes were closed tightly. He gently picked up her head and put it on his lap, slowly stroking her damp forehead.

'How are you holding on?'

'It hurts?' She coughed up more blood. 'How are you?'

'I'm OK,' he lied. He kept his hand pressed at the wound, but he could still feel the blood trickling from his abdomen.

The room was completely empty. Even if he would have had the strength to pick something up and throw through a warded window, there just wasn't anything there.

'I'm out of ideas. The doors and windows are warded and even the upstairs staircase is inaccessible. There is nothing here I can throw. I...I don't know what to do, Hermione? I don't have my wand and I'm guessing you don't have yours either!'

'Wandless? 'she croaked.

Wandless, why hadn't he thought about that? He knew how to do wandless magic, but in truth, it had been a long time ago when he had learned it from Severus. He hadn't practised in years and before he had stopped, he had only managed to summon small items and perform basic charms.

'Good idea, Granger! Just you stay put and I will have us out of here in no time!'

He tried his damnedest, to the point of utter exhaustion. He wanted, no, he needed it to work. He needed to save her! He needed her to laugh and live another day. He needed...he needed to rest, because he was starting to stumble on his way back to where he had left her.

'Hermione! Hermione, wake up!' He stroked her face, but she wasn't reacting to his voice or touch. 'Shit, Hermione!' He shook her a couple of times and she woke up again, groaning in pain.

'No. Luck?'

'No, not yet. anymore good ideas?' he asked. She closed her eyes again and remained quiet.

'Hermione? Hey, Granger, stay with me!'

She groaned again. 'We. Need. Help.'

'I know.'

'Need. My. Potion,' she cried and her tears were streaking her cheeks.

'I know.' His thumb wiped the tears away.

* * *

He woke up from Hermione wrecking in his arms. Blood red foam flowed out of her mouth and her limbs were shaking uncontrollably. He grabbed her as tight as he could to try and keep her from hurting herself. _Shit, Hermione, I don't know what to do anymore!_ As her convulsing subsided and she slipped back into unconsciousness, he followed as he was unable to hold on with his blood seeping out of him.

* * *

He heard Hermione's voice calling him from afar. She sounded so sweet and it reminded him of when she had been mewling beneath him, calling his name in ecstasy. He loved hearing her call his name, to taste those lips, to-

'Au! Fuck!' His eyes shot open at the incredible pain in his abdomen.

'Ah. You're back!' she stuttered.

'Yes, I'm back! What the hell? Granger, that hurt!' She had jabbed him right in his wound!

'I know'

He stared at her and he noticed that she looked worse. Her eyes were bleeding as were her ears and her face looked pasty and damp.

'Wandless.' she breathed with great difficulty. 'Wandless. Patronus.'

_What? Wandless what? _Suddenly it clicked, a wandless patronus. Could he cast a wandless patronus? He hadn't even managed to lift any of the wards and now he had to try and cast _that!_

'What ever the lady wants.' He tried to smirk, but it hurt too much. 'Need to look out of the window, Granger. Need to stand.' She rolled of him as he made his way to the window. The clock tower was still visible, but the sun was sinking below it now.

_Ok, focus Malfoy, what do you know about your surroundings? you're in an old house, there are limestone cellars and the use of Purbeck stone suggested the Swindon area. The house is at least one story high and has double doors. It's surrounded by grass and mature trees and to the West there is a cathedral. _

_ That would have to be relayed in the message and the fact that they needed the antidote, NOW!_

Holding Hermione's left hand in his and he pressed her against his chest. With his eyes closed he concentrated on the memory he had been using since the first time he conjured his patronus charm. It was of his toy dragon, Fiery, and himself, flying around his playroom on his first training broom. A small wisp exploded from his hand, but it wasn't strong enough yet.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but once again, the effect was the same. He just wasn't strong enough to do this wandlessly!

'Try, Draco. Please.'

He looked down on her face and he knew he had to save her. He had to think happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy... He outstretched his arm and could just see a misty animal shoot out of his fingers as the world turned black around him.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Hermione opened her eyes and smiled at Ginny.

'Hi.'

'Hi, 'Mione. How are you today? I talked to your Healer just now and he said that you can check out today.'

She grinned, he had already told her that and she was glad. She had seen enough of the hospital to last her a life time.

'I'm just going to visit with Fleur and the baby and I'll see you in an hour?'

Fleur had delivered a beautiful baby boy, called Dominique, and was at the maternity ward. Hermione had briefly visited yesterday and she had to agree with Ginny that the baby was lovely. Noisy, but lovely.

She got out of bed and walked over to the closet to start packing her things in order for her to be ready for when Ginny returned. The healer had agreed to letting her out of the hospital, on the condition that she wouldn't be on her own. So she was staying at the Potters for the time being and she would be checking in with Healer Stellaris every week.

The door behind her was pushed open again.

'Really, Ginny, did Fleur kick you out again? You know you shouldn't anger a new mum!' Giggling she turned around and stumbled back into the closet door.

'Hi, Hermione.' His voice sounded like she remembered. It sounded like velvet.

She turned back around. 'I don't want to see you,' she told him.

'I know.'

'What on earth are you doing here, Malfoy?'

He sighed and she heard him sit down in the chair next to her bed. 'Because I need-'

'You need! YOU NEED!' she bellowed as she turned to face him. 'You know what I need, Draco? I need to rehabilitate for another month, on top of the three I've already spent in this hospital. And if that wasn't enough, I also need to mend my heart. The heart that you broke into a thousand little pieces with your lies and games. And let me tell you what I don't need, Draco! I don't need your petty excuses! I don't need to hear your side of the story and I don't need you getting my friends to side with you!' She was furious and her heart was beating like crazy.

She saw him slump in the chair with his head leaning in his hands.

'I know, Hermione. I know what I have done to you. But believe me, I never meant you harm. Delphine...what I had with Delphine was just -'

'Part of the investigation. I know! But that doesn't make it any better!'

'You have to believe me, Hermione. Trust me when I tell you that I had to do anything to make sure that they wouldn't succeed. Anything-'

'Even whore yourself out to that, that-'

'Inbred low-life?'

'Yes, inbred low-life. That is just utter bollocks and you know it! According to Harry not even _he_ knew about how you had weaselled - or should I say ferreted - your way into that club of freaks?'

'I had no choice! I had tried everything else, trust me-'

She laughed at that remark. 'Trust you? Trust you! There is always another way, Draco.' She threw her hands up in exasperation. 'Gods, you're just like your father! Always taking the easy way out of things and no matter the pain and the suffering and the anguish you cause!' She stalked over to where he stood.

He shot up from his chair with such speed that she had to take some steps back.

'You sanctimonious little bitch. Tell me, what do you know about pain and about suffering? You know nothing!' He roared.

'I know enough, I know because you taught me! You and the rest of your little Death Eaters wannabe club at Hogwarts. Don't pretend you're something you're not, Malfoy!' she spat. 'You tortured me for years and you have killed and you have wounded. Don't you dare play innocent. You even killed Dumbledore!'

'I did _not_ kill him!' he screeched in despair, pulling at his hair.

'Yes, you did! Because you were a coward. Gods, you disgust me. What a disappointment you must have been to Death Eater daddy! Oh no, wait, he was already in _Azkaban,_ because he couldn't succeed either. How did it feel, to know you were just like your father?' She was seeing red and all the pent up frustration, anger and fear made her lash out at him.

He laughed darkly and he looked as icy as ever.

'And there you go again, always judging! Gods, you're magnificent in you righteousness, aren't you? You know it all! Well, I have got news for you Granger. The fact that you've read almost all the books in the wizarding world does not mean you're an expert on everything! Especially not on ME!' He walked up to her and stood with his nose against hers. 'You have no idea how my childhood was,' he growled. 'What I had to suffer and how I was tortured from an early age, at the hands of my own father. You have no idea how it is to grow up in a world that teaches you that _you, _Granger, are filth.' He pointed his finger at her. 'Your parents, your family, their friends, your friends, they all say the same. All of them! But then you come along and Thomas and all of you whom I have learned are worthless, beneath me and it was bloody confusing! And that is without taking in consideration the influence of the House I grew up in at Hogwarts. A house completely in the claws of a madman. But that is all you know, so you believe it.' His pacing through her room stopped at the window and he placed his hands on the sill and continued to speak in a softer voice. 'As the years pass, you see Harry - a half-blood-, Weasley – a blood traitor – and you – the Mudblood - getting praised at every turn. You see them excelling in everything they do. Do you have any idea how many belts were taken to my hide because I came second to a Mudblood for years, Hermione?'

She gulped at this statement.

'But finally, you get the chance to make your father proud of you and to make him forget all your mistakes and every time you failed and you feel proud to at the task set before you. At first. But then you start to think and for the first time in your life you really think about things and you decide that he is wrong. The sociopathic manic your father worships is wrong! But hey, what do you know? There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, because that maniac has your mother in his claws and he will kill her if you fail. You're the one who keeps her alive. It is all on your neck! Headmaster or your mother. Headmaster or your mother. What would you choose, Granger? Because that is the choice I had to make, as a sixteen year old boy and I had to do so without any friends to help me and no teachers to protect me. Just a scared to shit sixteen year old!

Tears streamed across Hermione's cheeks. She stretched her hand to reach him, the broken man standing in front of the window. She wanted to touch him and hold him or to do something. 'Draco, I didn't know, I never -'

He swooped around to face her. His face blotched and his eyes red from crying. 'No, you didn't know. But that never kept you from condemning and from being an ice queen to all-'

'Ice Queen,' she shrieked, backing away from him. 'I was always there for-'

'Yes, for your precious Gryffindors or for those you deemed worthy. But did you ever wonder why no boy wanted to come close to you at Hogwarts, Granger? He smiled viscously. 'No? And don't kid yourself with the idea that nothing happened at Hogwarts, I mean, come on, it was almost a non stop fuck fest for the rest of us.'

Memories of Ron and Lavender, sneaking off to dark places, slipped into Hermione's mind. She remembered Harry and Ginny, coming into the common room with flushed faces. Padma and Parvati whispering about boys in the great hall. She knew he was telling the truth.

Draco wasn't finished as he kept staring at her. 'They didn't want anything to do with a frigid, over-ambitious and sexless girl. A girl who would lecture them on everything! A girl who would tell them what to do and what not. They just wanted a warm body, a smile and some softness. But you couldn't do that, could you now? No..._Little Miss Perfect_ Hermione Granger had an image to uphold and she still does. And the whole world has to adhere to those standards, never mind how ridiculous they are. Upstanding citizen of the century! Ha!' He looked her straight into the eyes.

'I spend all of my Hogwarts years breaking rules, Draco!' she countered feebly.

'But that was all for the greater good, wasn't it, Hermione? You could convince yourself of those transgressions being necessary. Those weren't risk, not in your mind, those were calculated actions. And, let's face it Hermione, ninety percent of the mischief you got yourself into was caused by your controlling and admonishing nature and your compulsion at keeping the bumbling duo out of trouble. And there we have it don't we, Hermione? You don't live and you don't risk and you don't love. You...you control! You want to control everything and when you saw that control slipping away, with Weasley and even with Stone, you locked yourself away in the dungeons and hid behind your career. Gods, woman, you wont even admit to yourself that you have a wild side, a sexy side and that you love breaking rules. No wonder Weasley and Stone left you!'

She stared at the man who had just analysed her to the core. She felt her chin and jaw tremble as she tried to keep herself from collapsing into tears and her breathing became more difficult with every second that passed. What was she to do now? What could she say to him? She closed her eyes for a minute and she tried to collect herself, but when she opened her eyes again he was gone.

* * *

Draco stretched his legs under Potter's desk. 'So, has she cracked yet?'

Harry shook his head. 'No, I think I'm going to petition the Wizagamot for the use of Veritaserum.'

'I think that will be for the best. How did she react to her failure to distribute the poison? Or to the fact that we had already devised a antidote?'

Harry chuckled. 'She was livid.'

'Good!' He took another sip of his Firewhiskey.

* * *

'How is she doing?'

'Her body is improving. Slowly.'

'Good.'

'she's miserable, though.'

'So am I.'

'Why don't you talk to her?'

'She won't listen to me, Potter.'

'How do you know that?'

'Because I already tried.' He sighed. 'Believe me, I tried, but I cocked up.'

'What do you mean, _you cocked up?'_

'What do you think that means, Potter? he sneered.

'Oi, don't you go all arrogant on me, Malfoy! I know you love her, remember!'

'I remember.'

'Care to tell me how that happened anyhow?' Potter enquired.

'Fuck, Potter, I have no idea at all! I hadn't seen her in...for ever.' Frustrated at his own feelings he ran his fingers through his hair and he looked out of the window. 'But she just...gets to me. She gets under my skin.'

'She tends to do that. But that still doesn't explain why you feel you've cocked up.'

'I know I have. I...told her stuff. Bad stuff...about my childhood. But also about herself.'

'Let me guess. You let your Malfoy analyses loose on her. 'He smirked.

He nodded. 'So now do you understand?'

'I do. But I also know Hermione. Be patient, Draco.'

* * *

From her spot at the top of the stairs she once again sat to wait for Draco Malfoy to leave as she had been doing for the past month. Every time he came to visit Harry, to talk about the investigation, she would hide upstairs.

After he had left her alone in her room at St. Mungo's she had stood there for a long time, just staring out of the window at the London skyline. When Ginny had come back from the maternity ward, she had still been standing there, cramped and all cried out and feeling if she would fall apart if she would move. She felt as if she aged ten years in the last hour.

Of course she hadn't and Ginny had taken her to her home by Floo. The first days of her stay at the Potters she had kept to her room most of the time, rerunning all Draco had said to her and she had come to the conclusion that he was right about her. She was bossy and sanctimonious and she was a know-it-all, like Professor Snape had called her, all those years ago.

She did chase people away from her, look at her pathetic track record with relationships. Hell, she even managed to chase her parents away. Her parents, who decided to stay in Australia after she restored their memories. They had been so angry, _so angry_ with her for what she had done. Without their consent and without their knowledge and. She just did what she thought was right, because she was Hermione Granger and she knew bes!.

The same attitude that she had towards Harry and Ron - even Ginny. Everyone! He was right! Malfoy was right! She was a control freak! She even had to control herself. She felt the tears stream down her face again as she sat there waiting for him to leave.

She also had to face the fact that she had been all wrong about him. She had spent many hours crying on Ginny's lap as she had poured her heart out about all that had happened and all that she was feeling. How wrong she had been, in her judgement of him. He had given her a peek into his childhood and she had been shocked to the bone. His questions were valid. What would she have done? How would she have looked at Muggleborn's, if all she had learned was to hate them? If she had had no other information than the propaganda that only confirmed what everybody already told her?

Had she ever taken the time to see were he was coming from? Maybe not at Hogwarts, but afterwards, when he had been an Order member. Why had she thought she knew better? She knew Malfoy and she did not have to depend on other's opinions, because she knew better. She knew him! She knew...like always, what was best. _Gods, she was so arrogant!_

Finally it was safe for her to go downstairs. She found Ginny in the kitchen as she was cooking dinner.

'Do you need some help?'

'Nah. Just take a seat at the table,' Ginny said. 'Harry told me they are going to petition for the use of Veritaserum for that Palindrône hag.'

She fumbled with the table cloth. 'That would be good. That will mean they can start rounding up the investigation soon.'

'Yes. I have to say, I – for one – will be glad when they do. Harry is burning the candle at both ends for a while now and it's becoming to much. And as for Draco, he is looking like...' She turned to look at Hermione. 'He is looking like death warmed over, Hermione.'

'Oh?' Even in her ears this sounded rather lacking.

'Yes, well, it does help him to get in to his role of grieving at the capture of his almost fiancée. The Neo Death Eater's are furious and that is not helping their strategical thinking.'

'That's good.'

Ginny smiled happily back at Harry as he complimented her cooking.

'Mom has given me the family cookbook on loan.'

'She has?'Harry sounded as surprised as she was, Molly never ever parted with that book.

'Yes, she said I needed it to take better care of Harry. She's even invited as all to come to the Burrow on Sunday. To fatten us up.' Ginny laughed.

* * *

As she sat on the swing that hung from the old apple tree, she watched the Weasley children and grandchildren run around. She could see Ron, who was there with Shanna. Shanna, who had apologised to her so many times for what she had said that Hermione was positive that she could lip sync it by now. She could see Fleur and Bill sitting at the table, with Victoire and baby Dominique. The rest of the people were a blur of read hair and coloured clothing and she couldn't distinguish one from the other.

Molly had welcomed her with open arms and had told her that she was far too skinny. She hadn't agreed, because compared to three weeks ago, when she had just left the hospital, she had gained almost a stone. But Molly begged to differ and had tried to stuff her full of pastries and sweets all day long. That was why she was now hiding out on the swing.

'Do you need someone to push?' Harry went to stand behind her and she grinned.

'Why not?'

'You know, I really do think he loves you, Hermione?'

She frowned. 'What do you mean? Who really loves me?' That miserable bugger, he made sure she couldn't escape and then started on that subject.

'Don't act ignorant! You know who I'm speaking of! And although I have to admit that his whole sulking demeanour is working brilliantly with his cover in France, I want it to stop.'

'And what would you have me do, Harry? You say he loves me and I say he hates me!'

'What ever gave you that idea?'

_Try the speech he gave me on the day I was checking out of hospital._ 'I just know, Harry.'

Abruptly Harry stopped the swing and he almost made her topple right of. He went to stand right in front of her.

'Now you listen to me and listen good! I'm breaking a promise here by telling you this, but this can't go on. How much do you know about Malfoy's childhood?'

'Some. He told me some things.'

'Well, believe me when I say that he probably just skimmed at what he had to endure growing up. Hell, it even makes my life with the Dursley's sound like an all-inclusive holiday.'

She nodded knowingly since she had already figured that herself.

'At sixteen he was given a choice. Kill the headmaster or we will kill your parents. Sixteen, Hermione and he had to murder of be orphaned! I have no idea what I would have done in that situation and I don't even want to consider what that must have been like to go through. But he went through it and he made an adult decision at great risk. He became a double agent at sixteen, Hermione. He was made a full Order member well before any of us were allowed to. He worked with Snape, at Dumbledore's orders, to assisinate him!'

She gasped, she hadn't known that.

'I didn't know until I sat down with him and we talked. Really talked about all the crap he had been fed growing up and the whole pure-blood philosophy. During those talks we found out that we were not that different from each other. We fought, side by side, countless times. You did too.'

'No. I only saw him two times. At the battle of-'

'Hermione, believe me when I say you have. Ever heard of PolyJuice? He had a price on his head. Voldemort wanted him dead as much as me. He couldn't just go outside.'

'But what about his Mark? Wasn't he summoned?

'Have you ever seen it on him?' She shook her head. 'That's because he hasn't got one! Him and Snape managed to convince Voldemort that it was to early and that they should wait for him to be legally an adult. And when that time came, he just disappeared of the grid.'

This was almost to much information for her to take in . Her mind was reeling and she knew there was more to come yet.

'When Voldemort fell and we weren't able to catch all of the Death Eaters, we knew that one day they would gain enough strength to come back. We knew that Draco was to be our secret weapon, so he took his Auror training, like the rest of us and simultaneously took the position of director of Malfoy Enterprises. For the past years we have been hunting the Neo Death Eaters and trying to infiltrate their organisation. We tried every trick in the book and nothing worked. Until-'

'Until Draco seduced Delphine.'

'Precisely. Draco had profiled all the known members and their family. From our research Delphine came out as airhead pure-blood débutante with a penchant for handsome and rich men. Draco decided to set himself up as bait even before you were in the picture as team member. At the time you were still dating Stone. There was just one person who knew, Mr Fonst, my predecessor.'

'That is why he staid on the case after his retirement?'

'Yes, and because he has a lot of knowledge and experience and we needed both.'

Harry was gently pushing the swing again.

'All was going well, from what I have now discovered, until Draco tried to keep more of a distance to her when he started working with you. This coincided with his acceptance within the organisation and he could cover his distancing with his tasks in England. But unfortunately it now seems that our intelligence concerning Delphine wasn't completely accurate, as you know. She was knee-deep into the organisation and she's their resident Potions brewer. We still don't know how exactly she managed to discover you and Malfoy, but we hope to get those answers next week, if the Wizengamot agrees.'

'Ginny told me about the Veratiserum.'

'Another thing we didn't know, was that she's also extremely paranoid and possessive, but I think you know that out of first hand experience.'

They were silent for a time and Hermione watched the Weasley's zip in and out of her scope as the swing took her higher every time. Eventually Harry let the swing get back to a slower pace.

'Did you know he sent a corporal patronus to tell us where you were. A wandless patronus while he was mere minutes away from dying of bleeding out?'

She hadn't known. She recollected very little from what happened after Delphine had forced her to drink the poison.

'That is why I know he loves you, Hermione.'

She turned around on the swing seat. 'What do you mean? Because he saved me?'

'That is for you to find out, Hermione. Just trust me.' He kissed her forehead and walked back to the house.

* * *

A little tawny Owl pecked at Draco's window and he recognised it as one of Potters owls. He fed it a piece of cold bacon he kept in a bowl for precisely that reason.

It was a message from Potter. _"Impromptu Quidditch match at the Burrow. Come over or I'll come and get you," _it read.

He smirked. Why not? It took him five minutes to change into his Quidditch clothes before he walked towards the Floo. He dropped a handful of green powder into the hearth and shouted _The Burrow _at the top of his lungs.

Stepping outside of the kitchen he was confronted with an army of readheads. He hadn't expected they whole family to be present, just the guys. He looked around, but only seeing red everywhere he concluded Hermione had staid at Godric's Hollow.

He grinned at Ginny and let Mrs Weasley kiss him and tell him he was too thin and she would fatten him up after the game. Harry smacked him on the back and offered him a butterbeer.

He dropped in one of the lawn chairs an hour later, sweaty and thirsty. The small children were still running around like crazy and those little buggers didn't seem to have even one _off_ button between them. Mrs Weasley was pleading with the adults to find something to occupy the smaller children with and that way ensure they would be calmed down in time for diner.

'I know how to get those little monsters entertained,' Harry exclaimed. 'We will show them our patronusses!'

They all agreed and soon animals in all shapes and sizes were frolicking around the garden. After Harry had told the children the scary story about his confrontation with a small army of Dementors he turned to him.

'Come on, Malfoy, it's your turn now.' Harry pushed him.

Draco took out his wand and closed his eyes as he pictured his happiest thought and shouted the incantation _Expectro Patronum! _He felt the magic crackle as his little messenger leapt out of his wand.

Behind him he could hear a very familiar voice catch. Turning around he could see a thin, curly haired woman run into the cornfield. He turned back to look at Potter.

'Go!' he mouthed and he did.

* * *

She knew because of the rustling of the ears of corn that he had caught her. With her eyes closed she turned around to face him.

'Why did you run away?' he questioned.

'I saw!' she explained, still keeping her eyes and head down.

His hand cupped her chin and he tilted it up 'What did you see?'

Her skin was tingling were he touched her. 'I saw your patronus.'

'And, that is a reason to run away?'

'It has changed!' She was looking into his eyes, those grey windows to his soul. 'It's no longer a dragon.'

'I've noticed,' he smirked.

'But that's not possible!'

'Why not, Granger?'

She felt the blood rise to her cheeks and she just wanted to run away and hide from him and his staring eyes.

'Why not?' he pressed.

'Because you hate me!' Her voice a mere whisper.

He closed his eyes and a grin appeared around his mouth. Slowly he shook his head and she could see the last sun rays catch his silvery hair.

'Hermione,' he groaned and this made a shiver run along her spine. 'Silly girl, you know better than that.'

He was looking at her again and now he brought his other hand to her face. Slowly he stroked her cheeks.

'I love it when you blush.'

His thumbs caressed her lips and she let a breath escape them. 'I love your lips and I love to hear you call my name.'

He looked back to her eyes. 'Hermione. I love you!'

* * *

She sat on the swing watching the sun go down. The day had ended very surprisingly. She had been convinced for weeks now that he must hate her after all that he had said to her in the hospital. The worst thing was that he had been completely spot on in his tirade. This had smashed any hope that he would ever think favourably about her again. No matter what Ginny and Harry had said about it.

Seeing his patronus, actually it was _her_ patronus, had thrown her completely off balance. Her first reaction was to run! Run as fast as she could so her heart could get back into her chest and get her nerves to calm down again.

When he had told her he loved her, she had stared at him, dumbfounded. Even after seeing his patronus, she could not believe his words. When the words finally sank in, she had cried. All the tension, the fear and the despair of the last months came out and he had held her in his arms.

He had apologized for everything that had happened and this time she had listened to him. Although she still thought he didn't have to apologize for his harsh words, because they were nothing but the truth.

She knew they were in for a bumpy ride. She had even told him so. Because his confession of loving her did not erase all that had happened.

* * *

He walked back from the kitchen where he had been met by a happily grinning Harry and Ginny.

_Yes, alright, he was happy. But did they have to be so bloody obvious? _

Hermione was waiting for him on the swing near the orchard. She hadn't said that she loved him back, but he knew that in time she would. He was convinced of it, because in the end, a Malfoy always gets what he wants!


	14. Final authors notes

Final author's notes:

Hi,

I've noticed that some people have put a story alert on Dangerous Games. I just thought I should make it clear that Dangerous Games is finished and there will be no more chapters added to this story.

In the future, however, I am planning on writing a sequel to this. There are just to many loose ends to play with here.

I am currently writing another story, It will be some time before I will start posting it, but I will post it on this site, as well as on Hawthorn&Vine.

Thanks again for reading and a big thank you to everyone who was kind enough to send me a review.

Barbara


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